Paris Floods

Paris Floods In the city of young lovers Of those lost philosophers I rushed there to be Alone Walking along ancient stone I was flooded With wine The rains would not stop Depressions grasp soon to make me drop Surrounded by poetry Buried in the authors plume Black ink crawls all over Devouring what little was left of me Celts marched long ago In footsteps I silently trace the sadness The blood of angst fills me heart I can no longer live inside those stories of lore Rains keep falling Rain pouring over me Surrounded by books I succumb to my death you know as The Paris Floods Drowned by poetry