In the Frosty Death.

I made this poem up off the top of my head in English class. I thought it was good, so, here, you can read it. P.S. I wrote this poem, but i had to share credit with the other ruffians in my group.


'Tis a village, old and cold.
Be it odd, though 'twas it bold.
I gasped at sight, of the hold.
It gasped at me, I know.

In the village, old and cold.
So I walked, young and bold.
Walked into the holy hold.
Im far to cold, I know.

In the frost, I see my breath.
Unto me, untimely death.
My tortured being, of time bereft.
I am dead, I know.

In the bed, my body lay.
In untimed death, i'm here to stay.
My dreary soul knows not the way.
All is death.... I know.