Look at that boy

sitting in the corner

of the room, in silence

 

It's his seventh year

Of school, and all he

does is sit there

 

All he does is sit

there, and scribble in

his book

 

"What do you think,

he's writing about?"

 

"Perhaps on ways about

to harm himself, or

something like that."

 

How sadly mistaken they

were, to think that.

 

He got introduced into

poetry, and writing well

before his seventh year.

 

He started around the

fourth year

The same year as he

got into reading

 

One would say reading,

encouraged him to write

away.

 

At first it was small, simple

poems, and paragraphs.

Over the years they got meat

to them.

 

The words became tougher, and

the length longer

Some spoke of rage, and depression

 

Others about the good times,

and some were just pure fiction

He gladly wrote for others

Plenty was written when

asked by others

 

Stories of various genres, and

poems were published in literary

magazines from high school, and

community college

 

Even now he is writing this,

to explain how he got into

writing

 

It's funny that all it took

was a great first book