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Can​ ​you​ ​just​ ​open​ ​it​ ​already? I​ ​am​ ​cold​ ​and​ ​tired and​ ​hungry​ ​and​ ​lonely -​ ​mostly​ ​lonely. Also​ ​poor​,​ ​suggests​ ​my​ ​poet​ ​lady. iv. You​ ​may​ ​not​ ​remember but​ ​you​ ​loved​ ​me​ ​once​ ​before​ ​The​ ​woods​ ​were​ ​lovely​ ​dark​ ​and​ ​deep. I​ ​was​ ​the​ ​thing​ ​of​ ​hope​ ​and​ ​feathers As​ ​the​ ​Soul​ ​selects​ ​Her​ ​own​ ​society​ ​Till​ ​you​ ​shut​ ​the​ ​door​ ​ ​(in​ ​my​ ​face). Two​ ​roads​ ​diverged​ ​and​ ​I​ ​went​ ​one​ ​way, you​ ​chose​ ​another​ ​path in​ ​those​ ​horrid​ ​yellow​ ​woods I​ ​thought​ ​I​ ​would​ ​never​ ​see​ ​you​ ​again. v.a I​ ​picked​ ​up​ ​rocks​ ​and​ ​mended​ ​walls,​ ​trying​ ​to​ ​earn​ ​a​ ​buck; I​ ​heard​ ​you​ ​were​ ​killing​ ​brutes​ ​using​ ​stakes​ ​to​ ​the​ ​heart; navigating​ ​the​ ​luftwaffe​ ​and​ ​the​ ​gobbledegoo. Those​ ​were​ ​dark​ ​times​ ​-​ ​ugly​ ​angels​ ​spoke​ ​to​ ​me. Strong​ ​was​ ​the​ ​phenomenology​ ​of​ ​anger; I,​ ​in​ ​the​ ​house​ ​of​ ​Bedlam; You,​ ​my​ ​daughter​ ​in​ ​law,​ ​with​ ​shaven​ ​legs​ ​like​ ​tusks. v.b But​ ​you​ ​must​ ​remember​ ​the​ ​woods! Her​ ​softness​ ​and​ ​her​ ​midnight​ ​sighs

Page 101 | The Paragon Journal

Profile for The Paragon Press

The Paragon Journal - Issue Ten  

The Paragon Journal is an online literary journal that specializes in helping younger authors find their way in the literary world.

The Paragon Journal - Issue Ten  

The Paragon Journal is an online literary journal that specializes in helping younger authors find their way in the literary world.

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