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Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2127659
A biographical poem.
Like Frankenstein, I, too, am loathed to death;
    I walk this earth devoid of friend and hearth,
    devoid of joy from the time of my birth
and from the first draw of my infant's breath.
An outcast and a pariah among
    the friended, I exist without the mirth
    and bliss of those born of more ample worth,
esteem, and prize,—O would that I belong!
Still, I am loved of my dear family
    and most scarce friends, my books, and by my God,
and my most oft-read, soothing Poetry.
    These things I treasure, honor, and so laud
with gratitude and thanks abundantly,
    and so am glad as a worm in blesséd sod.
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