He was a broken son,. sSoft spoken , he felt like a hopeless runt.
Still, he put his focus ton the notions of an oelder's tongue, who spoke with the smell of ther old rum, that she sipped from hera dirty old moldy cauldron,. sShe told him; Hthat he holds a key deep within his poetry that he could use to set other souls free.. SHEhe told him, that he was born to wear the crown of a golden king, "sSo, never let go,. yYou have to hold the dream, and raise it high,
Ffor all of the souls who you freed." ...