A novel in progressAs the sunset over london a spectacular display of color in the fading lights a man who has no prospects or future to speak of ponders suicide. Why would his life amount to anything? His family has all died, he never had a wife, and at his ripe age of 45 and very average looks he didn't expect a suitor anytime soon. Even with bleak prospects, he could go either way, food was still gratifying, on occasion? The streetlights flickered to life, creating a gloomy glow every few paces or so down the sidewalks. The man, whose name was Edgar, and still is for the records, moved slowly and with no particular aim but to keep going in a single directi
..:: aristocratic Tears.Aristocracy's Tears have been shedOver the lives they have ledIssued edicts callously from thrones Decisions uncaringly thrownUpon the Lower ClassMade by a veritable ass -inine rulerSovereignty obtained, unearned, by familyPower enjoyed and displayed, seldom even-handedly.Sitting, dictating their every commandAs if they were god, in the form of manWhen they cry it's a beautiful thing, For those of us who are less than supreme..:: aristocratic Tears
"I love the way you convinced me to dance in the rain, with everyone watching like we were insane."