Untitled
Fly, fly pitiable plight, from whence you came take flight, never to return to the hearts of them who look to the sky and sigh.
Untitled
Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
Unknown Source
Title | Comments | Submitted |
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Title | Comments | Submitted |
Untitled | 0 | 03/16/2009 |
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