Evermore

A twist on The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I wandered, a mind so bleary,

Over many a street, and cobblestone more

I tried to recall, with frustration, the house's hazy location,

Eyes focused upon a fixation, a fixation out of memory's score.

"'Tis a bother," I murmured, "this object out of memory's score—

                I know I remembered it before."

Ah! suddenly it restored and I, happy I hadn't ignored,

Stumbled to the stairs, and there I swore

To force out my stomach's knots; - to ignore sorrow in all spots

To silence the other thoughts- the ones that fell upon the floor—

For all the notions that caught my throat and fell upon the floor

                Anonymous there for evermore.

And the soft, moaning, hinges and the purple curtains with fringes

Elated him- fated him with fantastic fear that swallowed him like War;

Then presently, with a sensation upsetting, I realized I was regretting,

"Poor, miserable fretting! His grief guilts me and my memory's score—

It guilts me and my memory's score;—

                'Tis new; I do not remember it before."

I could not help but walk nearer; Misery's veil then grew clearer,

"Sir," called he, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact that I was napping, and you so gently came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you"-here he opened wide the door;—

                I was frozen there, evermore.

Perpetually he stuck staring, incessantly he stood crumbling, despairing,

And it was then I gathered all of the thoughts upon the floor;

Then whispered his name quietly, drifting of anxiety entirely,

Subsequent a millennia, he replied tiredly, "Lenore?"

And there my murmur answered securely, "Lenore!"—

                'Twas all we uttered, and nothing more.

Hastily back he paced, and with all little mustered control he placed

Himself down in his chair along the books, his name my lips thrice bore.

"Surely," muttered he, panicked-ly, "surely that is something at my window lattice:

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore—

                'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

As he said, he commenced the window the wind blew against,

There entered the notorious Raven, consumer of gore;

If gore meant a soul eviscerated true; seeming but hardly liberated;