Why Do I Write? - Poem by Fred Babbin
My blood is in my pen
And when I write
My drops of blood form words.
Would that my blood went down the drain,
Then I would never have to write –
Then I would never write again.
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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
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye