This Mourning

October 13, 2010
The coldest ill
A thrill to seek
One night to kill
Such spite to speak

My fields to run
A sun to stare
A life begun
My strife to share

This mourn, what waste
A taste, so queer
My vain is faced
I feign my fear





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

L. said...
Oct. 27, 2010 at 11:14 am
This had a nice rythme but how is it a limerick?
 
NickSchell replied...
Nov. 12, 2010 at 7:26 pm
I feel silly. I posted this a while ago, and I guess then I thought a limerick was something it wasn't. :P
 
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