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Forevermore (Nevermore)

Where have I been?
What have I seen?
These missing days before my death--
Oh, please tell me what they mean.
A marriage there was to be.
An editor I would become.
A promise to stay sober I planned to keep.
Or was I not so strong?
Did I stumble into the pub,
drinking myself to my grave.
No-- I promised I would stop.
And even I do abide by the rules someone sets,
especially if that someone is my love.
Where is the raven that haunted my dreams?
And does the pendulum still swing?
Promises of forever have been made.
I shall not lost her again.
I lived alone and seen,
so much pain to lose my Annabel Lee.
And then I say, what is this madness now?
But a dream within a dream?
Missing days.
And I have died.
In reality.
For once not in my mind.
Where is she?
I wonder this.
Does she miss me?
Believe that I broke my promise?

Lies have been published.
Killing my name.
I am The Raven.
Not a mad man, what is this shame?
What has the world become of me?
My dark poetry and writing do see.
Is this all but a dream?
Or some sick nightmare-reality?

Where am I?
Where have I been?
I did not kill myself.
Oh now I walk on the Plutonuim Shore.
With a raven as my guide.
Is there really all that was of my life?
Where is the angel of oddities,
why does he not speak to me now?
For no other solution to this madness have I found.
I was alive.
Now I am dead.
And still the days missing in between.
Did I really give up my love and life,
for a drink. . .
No, not even in my fondest dreams.
Lies have been bestowed upon my name.
Edgar A. Poe, think of me just the same.
Dark literature I am the father of,
this was my right.

Bring my works to highest stand points.
Do not believe their lies.
I am mad!
I am insane!
I know what I am.
I know what I have been.
Tell Mrs Clemms I am sorry.
Tell my love I shall be waiting,
for the tide to bring her in.

For now I am shut in my sepulcher.
Sadly not by a sea.
And there is no dream, within this dream.
For I have died in vain it would seem.
I watch the raven, fly over head.
Looks down at me as it always has.
I hear the bells.
I smell the tide.
I see a small black cat and
tears come to my eyes.

I cannot stop the sand as it falls through my hands.
And once again, I am alone--
A lonely man.
But oh I hope to see that my memory is not darkened
by my tradgey.
Think of me as always.
My fellow poets and writers.
For you may not see me no more.

But I shall live on. . .

Forevermore.

In honor of Edgar A. Poe