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Feb 27, 2008 01:30

'The Road Not Taken' - Robert Frost
--
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I seem to have fallen shy in spite of myself. Floundering pathetically. This entire apartment smells like chicken soup, made for the boys. Augh. I don't even know what to do at this point. Have more questions, but everyone's so busy, and I don't even fully understand with what...

Honestly? Sleep might help, at this point.

wolfwood, roads taken, vash, tired, poetry corner

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