One thing my family and many others hated about me when I was younger was not that I loved art and wanted to draw, but more or less how unorganised I was; I would throw paper on the floor, practically grab any paper I could find and claim it as my own and it got to a point my family hid paper from me, but it was hilarious because I would always find it.

When you start off with your talents as a child, it’s quite beautiful how they can comfort you. I was very sheltered, not one for talking but I loved drawing for myself and others who would ask. Art always gave me a sense of comfort, it almost felt like days I wouldn’t have anyone around me, I would not be bothered because... I had art.

I also mentioned I loved writing on it, when young I was often given assignments from the school to write in a theme or re-write previous literature, it was insane the types of things I could do as a child regarding stories. I suppose I always had a love for writing, I just never really realised it was there, I just did it.
This poem’s form was Triolet, this quite similar to Limerick that I used in Music Notes for its repetition, but I do think the simplicity of it, does still add to that childish nature I had as a kid.