Give me my fate
My youthful picture a memory that strays
scatter my ashes in Pere Lachaise
no gold nor silk, no mortal riches
with this a shrine above chamber ditches
I want to rest along side the great
My words my life, give me my fate
Give me my fate
My youthful picture a memory that strays
scatter my ashes in Pere Lachaise
no gold nor silk, no mortal riches
with this a shrine above chamber ditches
I want to rest along side the great
My words my life, give me my fate
MindNumbing commented on Give me my fate
10-01-2010
10/01/2010
redbloodink commented on Give me my fate
09-17-2010
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
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