cookiemonsterrr3

Wrote this poem the last few days at school...enjoy. Through time and patience This tale was woven Of silk and soot, Of ice and clover. Few men have escaped To rasp the story From frozen lips, Stripped of pride and glory. They speak of a man Perched high on a silver throne With gray-blue eyes And features appearing to be carven of stone. His skin is made of alabaster Veins faint but always showing, With raven, glistening hair His solemn eyes constantly glowing. He sits inside an icy castle Awaiting the arrival of the victims of sin Whom would kneel at his feet for mercy, Yet within that castle, Hell begins. From the inte