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;

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  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.