Monday, October 24, 2005

Another installment

Why do I frighten off good fortune?
How can I be tortured so?
Despite all of my wishes and labors,
What I want is what cannot grow.

I've fought long and hard against this fate,
Yet the answer is the same!
So I finally resign to sorrow untold,
Left with the whisper of thy name.

- Eliza Woodhouse

1 comment:

Rachy Rach said...

There's this guy I know at school, he's like uber passionate about poetry.... he'd love you. Or maybe he already does.