Dead Poets

Dead Poets

I'm the master of my fate.

I'm the captain of my soul.

Infinitely interesting,

I am never bored.

They're opening a gate.

They're approaching with a pole.

I shall be transported

To another ward.

 

The Poet

A poet died. He soul was in a spell.

He got up and slowly walked to hell.

“No!” The angels stopped him at the gate.

“Hell is not for you. Come back now. Wait.

The truths you've written in your poetry

Demand an endless bliss, eternity.”
“Damn the truth!” he answered. “I shall fight it!

I hoped for beauty, but I could not write it.

I've been mad since was still a youth.

I never did, and do not know a truth.”

5-23-13