*Takes my story and sneaks out the back*

I am the manry-est of men!

I am the manry-est of men!

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

Of course not. It's by Walt Whitman in 1865 after the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.

I am the manry-est of men!

*sneaks in and waves to everyone* sorry for my absence lately

Lol. I am a talented poetic writer. That's just not my poem. XD

I am the manry-est of men!

I am the manry-est of men!

There's a link in my siggy, but I can also make a piece for you, if you'd like