A poem
One ,two,three
Is when the blood comes free,
Four,five,six
I can never be fixed
Seven,eight,nine
My life is on the line,
Ten and eleven,
I won't go to heaven,
Drip,drip,drop,
Silver to red,
Time to use the mop,
Why am I not dead.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen4U.Com