Poetry Post-Script Also Prose

   I don't think I was feeling sorry for myself back then, but I did find these poetic sentiments in my notes from that era: 
    "I dwelt alone in a world of moan,
      And my soul was a stagnant tide."

"And so I learned that familiar paths traced in the dusk of summer evenings may lead as well to prison as to innocent, untroubled sleep."

  Ah, the poor unsuspecting unaware.