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In Loving Memory of a Boy Named Jack...


ALONE

by Edgar Allan Poe, 1830

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

My journal will be mostly friends only, so comment to be added =)
Oh, and not to be an ass, please no one under 18. Thanks!



Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.
~Anais Nin
RED STATE. BLUE VOTER.Pass it on.










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"These children that come at you with knives,they are your children. You taught them.I didn't teach them.I just tried to help them stand up"

-Charles Manson





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