old poetry
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I like the poems of yesteryearThe poems of ‘twas, and yon, and ere,The poems whose ol’ archaic tongueWas in its prime, and lo, e’er young.Their tales were spun of days of yore
You exhaust me.
That hardly describes it.
I wish there was a better phrase for putting my emotions through a spin cycle.
You didn't even hang me out to dry.
