I could have saved her.

Do not stand By my grave, and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep— I am the thousand winds that blow I am the diamond glints in snow I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle, autumn rain. As you awake with morning’s hush, I am the swift, up-flinging rush Of quiet birds in circling flight, I am the day transcending night. Do not stand By my grave, and cry— I am not there, I did not die. — Clare Harner, The Gypsy, December 1934

>>25544809 my daughter, being raised in the basement, never saw the outside... one day she comes up to me with a drawing. it consists of a weirdly shaped tree, a big star in the sky and some grotesque animals. the colours are all wrong, bizarre. she tells me "daddy, i drew the outside, the one they talk so much about in books and that you tell me about in stories" she then sighs and continues "if only it was real..." and i go "yeah... if only"

>>25544809 Wtf that poem is written by a woman.

Ой блять какой душый