Edgar Allan Poe

There's no more haunted man than me save Edgar Allan Poe
For I have lived vicariously like Edgar Allan Poe
I fear I've loved and lost in vain like Edgar Allan Poe
Only laudanum can ease the pain as it did for Poe

My nerves are taut as harpist strings
My heart weeps like a violin

There's a black hole where my soul should be
A smouldering ember of self-pity

I'm just a husk of my former self
My bruised heart bottled on the shelf
There's a black hole where my soul should be
A smouldering cinder of self-pity

My empty clothes sit in this chair
While my spirit takes the evening air.