An Autobiography of his Creation

I was glazing at the word poem when it struck me that Edgar Allen Poe was the poet of myths. He wrote in such a style that his words could be sung. A word is like a poem in that nothing can be formed from each when the o that they share in the second tense is dismissed or forced to nonexistence. That is a coincidence. The mind is a terrible thing to waste.

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Why can't. money buy the things that life offers? I spent so much money I brought more. I pay for things that are worthless and gain. Money is money regardless of how much or less of it we have. One person wants all the money in the world. Two people want to live forever, together in holy matrimony. Three individuals carne here divided by kingdomes of death that kill. Ask and you shall receive. Bee all that you can be. Could I have saw a bum!