Mine is the credit and the blame, with no one else I share
The culpability for what I do,
No God, no deux ex machina, there’s naught and no one there
Save me, myself and I, no Number Two.
The inspiration comes when I’m gregarious of mood,
Or when I move, a shadow in the crowd,
When I am in my twilight make-believe and silent brood,
Or wandering as lonely as a cloud.
The inspiration and the deed belong to me alone,
One day I write a sonnet, next I kill;
No fraction of my destiny do I, would I, disown;
No ghost in my machine: I got Free Will.
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