His pain was written through his rough and wretched hands,
He quivered and whispered a plead for mercy again.
"Why must this heart break, why must I lose?
This pain must leave me with no further adu!"
His road was rough, maybe more than one can bare;
that must explain his dark, demented flare.
A tormented genious, some might say.
what else can one do when their world is so gray?
For his Lost Lenore and Sweet Annabel Lee
He longs and mourns, like the willow weeps.
His words are always with us, in dark and light,
like the Tell Tale Heart beating, that cold night.
He ceased to breathe, leaving no traces
like The Raven flew away, into empty spaces.
"Nevermore, nevermore!" will his heart ache,
for he is now gone, nothing more to break.
Maybe in the dark shadows, we'll feel his words,
Ha! it's not all fantasy, perhaps he's NOT so absurd!