My first year of school was really content,
I always desired to go to school.
Exited to hit the books and learn,
Kindergarten was fun and went well.

Heading towards my second year,
I was happy to be back.
That’s when I met my best friend here,
Who’s still my friend until now.

On my third year it wasn't as stress-free
As I assumed it would be.
I couldn't read and write very well,
I felt dumb.

Art then became my desired subject,
Drawing was fun it bought my joy when I was down.
I didn't need to worry about getting anything incorrect,
Neither letters nor numbers were needed.
Just drawing was necessary.

My friend is gone.
No longer will she feel
the warmth of the sun
upon her face,
the chill of Winter,
or taste the Beaujolais Nouveau.

Still I will remember her;
in the warmth of the Sun.
in winter's chill grasp.
and in the crush of the grape

until I, too, forget,
and am forgotten.

Its is only fourteen lines
He said, how difficult could it be
But I had tried a million times
If it was, then why wasn't easy for me?
instead of trailing dust, my pen collected dust
How can I write words that would compare
To such words of nature, love and lust
Nothing was important enough, so here I stare
With what could I fill a blank page?
Only meaningless love had occurred
I am only twenty years of age
This could have been morbid if preferred
Its only fourteen lines He said, Just try!
Don't compare, it wasn't easy, it was a lie