Mar 2013
A trickle drips down and spins me ‘round
To swindle my withering will
Promise of rapture to be found
A trickle drips down and spins me ‘round
I don’t want to hear a sound
A sliver of silence, then a shriek so shrill
A trickle drips down and spins me ‘round
To swindle my withering will
To swindle my withering will
Promise of rapture to be found
A trickle drips down and spins me ‘round
I don’t want to hear a sound
A sliver of silence, then a shriek so shrill
A trickle drips down and spins me ‘round
To swindle my withering will
Inspired by Hello Poets, I decided to turn a poem (fated for a random rhyming scheme) into my first triolet
