The Death of Titus
On the night that Titus fell His night nest was not empty, Not empty, but silent. His body still warm, Still warm to receive The
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
On the night that Titus fell His night nest was not empty, Not empty, but silent. His body still warm, Still warm to receive The
Rhythm is in the heart of man, We play with it from when we’re young; It lays down roots and helps us plan, Bunga bung