The MuseA Poem by Morgan Ryne
Every morning a raven comes and sits outside my window,
Shrouded in despair it seems to announce the death of my creativity, in it's own callous way it denies me, of the muse that it was to Edgar Allen Poe © 2011 Morgan Ryne |
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1 Review Added on June 29, 2011 Last Updated on June 29, 2011 |

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