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I was born, with a name and place,
lived with my title, with my same face.
I woke with a dream, of being great,
escaping from pain, and all hate.
I feared death, with all it brought,
of being forgotten, of losing thought.
I wrote my life, created my world,
became someone known, another story told.
I loved all, great and dear,
from greatest of friends, to family near.
I grew tall, wise, and strong,
learned many lessons, of right and wrong.
I was so different, but also same,
I died the like the rest, another forgotten name.
- by Jeru Darkfang |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 06/11/2009 |
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- Title: My Story
- Artist: Jeru Darkfang
- Description: How I want people to remember me.
- Date: 06/11/2009
- Tags: story
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Comments (1 Comments)
- Punk Fox TH - 06/21/2009
- Well. . . you have some semblance of meter, even if it jarrs often. The idea. . . didn't care for it, but I'm not hear to judge ideas, but mechanics. A poet is only as good as his skill with words. You need some work, but you're a vast improvement over the dozen I've read tonight.
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