B: Xxxxi: Thus Spoke... - Poem by Douglas Scotney
A poet arose
Out of boredom
Which tormented early bliss
With unrequited rage.
The joy of living became a dream.
He thought better of the source.
Between where he was and sadness
There lay his driving force.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You