POETRY SPAM!

Because I just FELT LIKE IT.

The Hollow Men by TS Eliot

I


We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar


Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;


Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

( Rest under here, because it's long. )

If you don't read it, people, you are dead to me. <3

In a rare moment of sentimentalism...

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