The Rose - Poem by Patrick Utitufon
Fair plant of blissful bloom
Why wither in your season of boom?
Why are your shoots blind,
Blighted by the westwind?
The silent worm of destruction
To your outward self had grown
That had sprung within thee
To mar your futurity.
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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