Misery

I find descriptions extraneous.

 

It was in the deepest heart of winter

When the ice in the glen does surely splinter

That I was passed into the realm of misery

 

And the news came in like a mighty gale

That I hoped it was a traveler’s tale

Not wanting to add to my misery

 

But it was fact, oh rigid fact

And my mind was surely racked

With the earth-shattering misery

 

I was far too young for such a thing

And hardly could buy a ring

To add into my misery

 

And we were wed in a shotgun fashion

Without any love left, or passion

All I had was misery

 

And in eight months, you bore me our wretched Misery

Author's Note

Enjoy, Mi Amigos.