February 19, 2009 - 11:37pm — Anzel
I linger o'er yonder in the little willow bed
You scratch, you nay, you whinney out, and I just scratch my head
I hear it not, the sounds of deer bemaskèd by the Gods
The fates are undesired, me...too fatal, face the odds
An angel lies in waiting at the very gates of hell
With a silver-golding Saint of breath, I know the toll, the bell...
Do you hear me...faint, my voice may be, but I still cry
Staring from the log, a mold...an algae to the eye
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Bored Anzel is staring at the Pond.
amazing poem inspirer
inspirer writing and poems
if you like dragon eggs you can look at mine. at
http://dragcave.net/user/xhunter
Dearest Anzel, Goddess of
Aw... that's beautiful. Poor
(btw, I replied to Plume's valentine picture thing in response to Taint. :3)