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The Road Never To Be Taken

I stand by a descending road
That runs down to some dark woods unseen before
And I see no other pedestrian passing by.

As I look on I see a few foot prints running down
None returning from there though.
I stand confounded and confined there.

I have just come out only a few yards
And none knows whether I have come out of my home at all.
Many think I am inside it lost in slumber.

The road is not that easy to travel
Though I can`t sleep like ever before.
They think I ever sleep and never travel.

The dark woods let out a strange cry.
It reaches the skies and reverberates unto my ears
And I begin to retreat.

The ghost of the lucky poet haunts me
As I can never tell the story of the road not taken.
My road was laid by someone cruel!

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