Once there was a poet. Who worked hard each day to put his words to rhyme.He stayed up late at night. Putting them out time after time. He tryed to bring his word out for all the world to see.Not after fame or fortune, he just wanted to be.
Everything that is. Everything that was. All for not. Or just because. The poem that didn't rhyme soon found a home. File thirteen, filled to the brim. In the dark all alone. Seems like a crime. But he was a poet. Yes he was a poet.
The poem that didn't rhyme. Wasn't a poem at all. It was only a matter of time. The signs were written on the wall. Grab up your bottle of wine. Drink a drink, try to stand tall. Yet you know how it goes. The poem that didn't rhyme.
Originally Posted On Site: 2010-01-01 18:38:18
Last Login: 09.02.10
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