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From year to year I do read with great fear
On winter nights clear Poe's song, "The Raven,"
That dreadful beast at Poe's doors front and rear
Distressing that man who's mad and craven.
That fearful, feathered, Bird of Hades' heath
Which preys without relief (and cruelly taunts
With the ebb and flow of spirits beneath),
Torments him by Lenore's undreamed of haunts.
Like Poe's, my own "raven" can't I ignore,--
That Melancholy at my doors front and rear
Distressing and depressing me e'ermore,
Just draining me so that death's almost near!
I admit...during times of great distress,
I aim and pull the trigger with success!
© Copyright 2007 ngoc m. nguyen (UN: ngoc at Writing.Com).
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