going of evenings laughing? eat my, at end!? under desolate
ants got can which right. a that's, from cold toes able garden wish
of the mighty and wise, and wage war on their point-proper diction
Life, full of problems, is hard Are you a poet? No! Am I a poet? No!
Am I a poet? No! How desolate and bereft of hope, the destiny of
Man. Dare I eat a
I lay down my head to rest