Heh. Yeah. I re-did this for English class, because we had to write a rhyming poem that tells a story, and I'm way too lazy to write a new one. Therefore, I made this piece acceptable, and... yeah. Okay. Enjoy!
There once was a boy with indigo hair,
a milk-white face, and an azure stare.
He dressed in black, and white, and grey,
his blue features standing out, plain as day.
The indigo boy knew just what to say,
one quote from his poems could brighten my day.
Although, better than his clothing or wiles
was my indigo boy's ever-brilliant smile.
That wry grin of his would make all my pain drop.
Another kiss from those lips, and my heart might just stop.
My indigo boy, oh, how I loved him so,
but to heaven, to heaven, I watched him go.
You see, it happened on a dark and rainy night.
we were eloping, leaving for the forty-sixth flight.
While on our way, we had run out of time.
The speeding car had swerved into a sign.
I looked upon him with an absent stare,
my indigo boy now had bright crimson hair.
His lovely face, it had been smashed
through the shattered pane of windshield glass.
I held him in my arms so close,
whispering, "Please, my love, don't leave me alone."
His tender lips parted in one last breath,
"I love you, my dear," he said upon death.
I sat in that seat, his cold body still there,
running my fingers through his indigo hair.
Tears streamed down my face, my lips formed a word
"Goodbye," I choked, wondering if he'd heard.
Unto this day, I still do miss
his loving smile, his gentle kiss,
his sweet, kind words, and his azure stare.
Oh, I so miss that boy with the indigo hair.
There once was a boy with indigo hair,
a milk-white face, and an azure stare.
He dressed in black, and white, and grey,
his blue features standing out, plain as day.
The indigo boy knew just what to say,
one quote from his poems could brighten my day.
Although, better than his clothing or wiles
was my indigo boy's ever-brilliant smile.
That wry grin of his would make all my pain drop.
Another kiss from those lips, and my heart might just stop.
My indigo boy, oh, how I loved him so,
but to heaven, to heaven, I watched him go.
You see, it happened on a dark and rainy night.
we were eloping, leaving for the forty-sixth flight.
While on our way, we had run out of time.
The speeding car had swerved into a sign.
I looked upon him with an absent stare,
my indigo boy now had bright crimson hair.
His lovely face, it had been smashed
through the shattered pane of windshield glass.
I held him in my arms so close,
whispering, "Please, my love, don't leave me alone."
His tender lips parted in one last breath,
"I love you, my dear," he said upon death.
I sat in that seat, his cold body still there,
running my fingers through his indigo hair.
Tears streamed down my face, my lips formed a word
"Goodbye," I choked, wondering if he'd heard.
Unto this day, I still do miss
his loving smile, his gentle kiss,
his sweet, kind words, and his azure stare.
Oh, I so miss that boy with the indigo hair.
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