Castaway - Poem by Conor Young
Left to rot in a foreign field.
Nothing but a shadow,
Stalking the Irish night.
In passion’s exile,
Strife is over,
Hope is lost.
Lover says “goodbye: ”
“Now is my time to die”
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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