Edgar Allan Poe Monologue

Wind fingered between towering birch trees, twisting and turning the leaves until they lost their grip, forcing them to tumble through the air and onto their final resting spot, an old cracked sidewalk. A very perplexing and taciturn man would later walk down this sidewalk, the fallen leaves screaming as he would step on them, crushing their midribs as he walked. He kept to himself most of the time, careful not to be ostentatious, he barely ever spoke. Thick caterpillar eyebrows, a rectangular mustache, an angular build, and a large forehead was featured on this man. This man was named Edgar Allan Poe. And it was his last day on this Earth. Little did he know, later that day, he would succumb to the darkness that was growing inside of
Would it be an overdose, a beating, a murder, or just a random death? The question is still looming. He was last seen looking up at the orange falling leaves while he was walking down the main street in Baltimore. Edgar was found lying in a gutter wearing unusual clothes and not breathing. His face was white as paper and his pulse was nonexistent. Dark blue veins subtly appeared through his thin skin looking like a spider crawled beneath his thin skin and made an intricately designed web. Edgar Allan Poe was finally able to find his serenity, death. It was a grey day in Baltimore, with the clouds about to explode and shower it.
Days after his death, a ceremony was orchestrated placing Edgar in a resting place. Only seven people came to his funeral to revere him. His own family too arrogant to attend because they assumed it was suicide. He was lowered into the ground of an unmarked grave only to be moved to his final resting place at the Westminster Hall and Burying Ground at a later
It was titled, Annabel Lee, and was thought to be written about the love of his life, Virginia Eliza Clemm Poe. The poem whimsically tells the tale of the loss of Annabel Lee, “But our love it was stronger by far than the love, Of those who were older than we—, Of many far wiser than we—, And neither the angels in Heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul, Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;” (Poe 5). Edgar took his lasts breaths, thinking he was alone and everyone he ever knew averse him, but once he left his body behind and his soul went away, people began to realize the talent he was hiding. His poetry not only changed the world, but it also created a legacy that people are able to relate to. Using his disdain towards life after the loss of his beloved as well as, his perspective to never just look at obscurity, but to go and find it. Edgar Allan Poe was finally free, he was free of the chains called life that once kept him from meeting with his beloved, Virginia, as well as the brutal beatings of losing jobs, and never fitting