Rid me river Lethe of the habit to think,
Let me your murmuring waters drink
For I too like the shades before me want
To baptise my brain in your forgetful font.

For I cannot continue to dwell
In the aimless Asphodel
Where souls are unable to be understood
Unless they are restored to wits by blood.

So please, river Lethe, obliterate
My mortal lot, my mortal fate.
Let me return above and live again
So I may earn fields Elysian.

By Sarah Mills

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