Copy Change Poem - "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

He lives above where no trees grow;

On big white clouds his castle lies

Watching down on the world below.

From deep within come piercing cries

And all happiness inside me dies

I take a step into the gloom

And all around me dark trees rise.

It seems a though I'm in a tomb

The devil's toxic, writhing womb

Beneath my feet I feel a tremor

The demon wishing to consume.

But I have got no firepower
Trapped inside this painful blur,

Running through these woods forever,
Running through these woods forever.

Copy Changed Poem

so much depends

upon

a paper

plane

gliding through a

sky

of pulsing

galaxies