Let me tell you a tale;

Like the sorrows of a nightingale.

There was once a boy called Dalton;

He heard slander from fellow Melton.

So enraged he became;

No one could make him tame.

He picked up a sharp stone;

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

And shot it towards Melton.

But...

As fate would see, Dalton would not see glee.

Melton dogged the fierce shot;

By crouching in front of these lot.

*BAM*

The stone hit a boy;

But Dalton found no joy.

Blood, blood all around;

'That was a hard hit from its sound.'

A chilling breeze was in the air;

Even though it was a summer sun so fair.

"Chris, Chris please open your eyes;

This stone was not meant for your demise."

Dalton pleaed and pleaed but to no avail;

His friend Chris will sure to be missed

And so Dalton held his friend's corpse;

What started as a squabble, now ended with remorse.