I felt the stunt of the blow
Quaking, waking to the numbing snow
Shifting my voice towards the black night
Asking why all the false Fright
Did the crow pluck out his might
Or did he gain further sight.
And the empty whole held the truth.
He pushed the wind to blinding woe.
Slowing, knowing to the silencing note.
Bad poem of the Month by Antique Whisper
Quaking, waking to the numbing snow
Shifting my voice towards the black night
Asking why all the false Fright
Did the crow pluck out his might
Or did he gain further sight.
And the empty whole held the truth.
He pushed the wind to blinding woe.
Slowing, knowing to the silencing note.
Bad poem of the Month by Antique Whisper
