Where would be the would be Edgar Allen Poe's garment of dark themes!
Let down his soul's poematic and his rest be there doing the rest to his best
Pour abound nay his any exactly so called garment of grim and let the same put me on to the reach
Then shall I not be furious besides vengeance himself!
I shall avenge: killers that mourn my loss
To my sight, I shall stitch their stinking silly souls to aught
To boast in the darkly times of the day, tenders of empathy by dusk
O Bimpe, my lost diamond that ne'er rust by dirt's cold!
Heads that course your departure be a pace apart
Await there, their wretched selves, my angst shall do 'em eerie reach.
Family's face source the cause of all failures mostly
The paths of an outsider is out, it becomes rare for an alien to knock
A bad relative leads death to a side and alleges life's not lurked in an eternal agony.
