By Reece Sellers-Mitchell
He always ate an apple before bed,
Before one sent him to an immortal sleep.
A genius who took a leap, found dead
The drugs would always keep his mind weak.
He stopped his suffering through cyanide’s might,
And went freely into that Good Night.
He was the paradigm of a persecuted man.
His infamy did fan the flame
Guilty of the crime, both “indecent” and “insane”,
The love that cannot speak its name.
The choice was castration or imprisonment
He forwent any family to cement
His place in history, with no chance of a son
He had his work to be his legacy
He is the scientist sent
To sleep by an insidious intent,
After society’s torment.
The world is now deprived ,
Of one more innocent.
A martyr driven to suicide
How we view him, we decide.
The chemicals of his experiments released,
His search for knowledge may have made him deceased.
Was it merely chance that this war heroes’ lance did fall,
An accident may have answered Death’s persistent call.
We may want to view him as a victim
As a sinned against man
Rather than his death as Nature’s whim
Ending his future plans
I’d like to remember the scientist
Who carried on despite
His troubles and strife,
He will be missed because of this
As it is unknown, we can view
Him as one of the tortured many,
Or as one of the resilient few
Who held his head high
And through something
He loved, he came to die
He played a vital role amongst the war effort’s totality,
And it is by this that he gains immortality.
So for his impact that is ever enduring,
I commemorate Alan Turing.