The poet longed
for money
and fame.
"My lines"
he thought,
"will bring me
all that I desire."
He died,
soon thereafter.
Penniless.
Alone.
Friday, September 9, 2011
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a daily poetry blog (minus weekends) and a nice way to not be a procrastinator...
3 comments:
meh
i like it, i feel like its how we (as writers, or artists, or whatever) feel like at times.
i used like three times in a sentence, thats probably not good. long week.
I like the straight forward presentation: it compliments the blunt truth of the matter, thus diminishing the probability of the poet's wild dreams.
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