I lost my will to live

but I didn’t want to die.

Talking about Ethan Frome,

and Poe’s dear “Annabel Lee”,

I met Mr. Pound in the “Station at the Metro”,

then we sailed across the Mississippi.

You asked of us to call you “Captain”

and that became your name.

Throughout this beauty,

you threw dirt at me.

When you taught,

my mind was asleep.

Tales of old mournings and prayers hit deaf ears.

It was so fun to belittle my fears.

You didn’t believe depression was a thing.

So I suffered, in a cold dark sleep.