That's What They At The Asylum Now Say Poem by Mark Heathcote

I have walked in wait for my death
I have swam and drowned in my own life
I have climbed only to sink beneath the sky
I have crawled belly-down and stood on high
I have wrestled with hatred only to find love
I have been the bully who first needed a shove
I have been quick-tempered deep into manhood
But old age mellows that adolescent boyhood:
At least that's what they at the asylum now say
Little does this white-walled demigod know?
He is also buried under the walls of Pompeii...
His life to a moulding of death anther Stucco...