As I play my Lyre.

Poem by: MorganLitchfield

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Summary

What an artist dies in me.

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Submitted: February 13, 2012

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Content

Submitted: February 13, 2012

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The fire burns, the fire burns,

In my dreams, I toss and turn,

In my room, I sit and fiddle,

As the world figures out my riddle,

The fire spreads, the fire spreads,

I play my Lyre, for those who are dead,

And when destruction finally ceases,

I bring my thoughts and put back the pieces,

The Christians, for they deserve the fear,

Their screams and cries, this joy I haven't seen in years.

I'm just like my Uncle, I love a good laugh,

As I have mother killed, for standing in my path.

My life goals, what I long to be, 

Oh how I wish you were there, so you could see,

It is a great loss. What an artist dies in me.


© Copyright 2016 MorganLitchfield. All rights reserved.

As I play my Lyre. As I play my Lyre.

Status: Finished

Genre: Historical Fiction

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Status: Finished

Genre: Historical Fiction

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Summary

What an artist dies in me.
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