This isn't a story. This is a poem. Get over it. =]
Near the harbour,
By the sea,
The was a town,
In this town,
Dwelled a boy,
From the crown,
He had left,
His kingdom, poor,
He thought he knew,
There was nothing,
Of importance,
He could do,
But the boy,
Was a poet,
Of great talent,
But before,
He was a prince,
Forced to look gallant,
Now he sat,
In the alleys,
Scribbling words,
He failed to notice,
A girl approached,
Frightful as a bird,
This girl,
Was very sick,
And she was dying,
Inflicted,
By rare disease,
But she'd keep trying,
The girl,
And the boy,
Became lovers,
She hid her sickness,
From the boy,
And the town others,
The boy,
Began to take back,
His confidence,
While the girl's sickness,
Progressively worsened,
And she lost conciousness,
The boy,
Thought everything,
Was his fault,
So he left the town,
Leaving his poems,
On the asphalt,
He cried for days,
And the girl,
Did not awake,
As days went by,
The boy stopped crying,
He could only shake,
He headed east,
To the cliffs
To contemplate,
How to save his girl,
His lover,
In this state,
He stared down,
The bottomless cliff,
And knew,
For his love,
Exactly,
What he would do,
He wrote,
His final poem,
On his final page,
He placed it saftely,
Where it'd be seen,
With no more rage,
He approached the edge,
Of the cliff,
His heart thumped,
Fiercely,
But regardless,
He jumped,
The girl awoke,
Very well,
That very second,
But her lover,
Was nowhere near,
Her bed of sickened,
She grew hateful,
Thinking,
Of his affairs,
And she found a man,
Who told her,
Everyday, he cares,
In later years,
They traveled,
To the east,
She found the note,
Her lover wrote,
Before he deceased,
"My darling,
I know,
I'm not perfect,
We both kept secrets,
Like children or,
Something to that effect,
Now,
I admit,
I love Jesus,
He can heal,
Anyone,
From all diseases,
I did not tell,
Until now,
It's too late,
But I know,
That you'll live,
To a later date,
Because I,
Became your Jesus,
And I died,
Because you,
Gave me purpose,
And I tried,
For both of us."
Near the harbour,
By the sea,
There was a town...
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I will be a writer
"Hoot"
"Hoot!" the owl
Up in a tree
Calls to angels
To be set free
Of the boundries
Of the world
Away from Earth
To where the colours swirled
The angel came
And took it away
From it's home
For the day
So, it soars
Up in space
Like an angel
Full of grace
"Hoot!" the owl
Up in a tree
Calls to angels
To be set free
Of the boundries
Of the world
Away from Earth
To where the colours swirled
The angel came
And took it away
From it's home
For the day
So, it soars
Up in space
Like an angel
Full of grace