My Own Made Pyre
On this pyre I made,Desperate here I lay.
Stolen heart, freely given;
Broken soul pulled under.
Entire life gone away,
for the empty words
of an empty heart.
My Own Made Pyre
On this pyre I made,cmlestrade commented on My Own Made Pyre
08-10-2009
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.
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