I feel as if
The most of this
Are drunken works
Of foolish men
In which the steps
From love and woe
To anger all
Can churn about
In changing shapes
That mask the sad
Pitiful Fool
Whom I cannot
Care for my own
Because I see
The Masquerade
And cannot love
The real man
Who is afraid
To show his face.
A false life then
Befalls the ass,
Believing that
She's found her steed
Despite the brays
And whence they came.
Deceit can have
Whichever name.














Comments
nice poem tho ^.^
i like the ending 'specially
and I dunno, you might not know the class, you know, the one where I'm NEVER paying attention.... *cough*....
lookie lookie! I found a pirate! -> -> ->
heh oh THAT one, oh yeh, how could i have missed that? i mean, yeh..yeh! XP
pirate! score! ...it looks like he's holding an acorn lol
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