A Letter To Edgar Allan Poe

Dear Edgar, I could not endure the tragedies of your short life, suffering through the death of your young wife. Orphaned at the tender age of three years, is it any wonder that you cried unending tears. You were only forty when death came to your door, such a talented hand was now stilled, forevermore. It is because of you that I write these days, you have been an inspiration in so many ways. I remember the day when I first discovered Poe, such deep words of torment, sadness, and woe. Which is exactly how I was feeling at that time, to me, your poems of darkness are truly sublime. You wrote of haunted pasts and a premature fate, with such agony and loneliness, I can truly relate. You also wrote of many a romantic endeavor, and your humorous stories were really quite clever. Time has condemned you with a "gothic" label, but, much like my writings, it is all just a fable. No one made you apologize for writing "The Raven", so, why should I hide like some cowardly craven? Your rhymes and your poetry continue to inspire, how did you ever master it, might I inquire?