Oh, Achilles, you were a suckeryou died and you were forgotten. Perhaps not your namebut who you actually were -the details that differentiated you from the other brutes on the beach - and who knows how much Homer just plain made upafter a glass or three,and he wasn’t one to disappoint the crowd. If they wanted a little more bloodor wanted you to be a little bigger and strongerand not actually have had to fight your fearwell then so be it. But that’s not you he’s singing about,let’s be clear. That’s Homer's Achilles,and people are remembering that Achilles,the one he made up to turn a little gold.They're not remembering what you actually did,not what you actually sacrificed -not the beautiful children you could have held,not the fields you would have tilled,not the sunsets you would have ponderedleaning on your plowin your old agethat you did not have.

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