Personal Poem for British Lit Class

Krissie: I wrote this for my British literature class. We were supposed to write a poem that describes ourselves and they must rhyme. I'm not very happy with it to be honest. So enjoy!


An artist with thoughts of horror

Always perceived too young

Breaking and leaving pieces as I cross the border

The tales have only just begun

The broken pen has spun

Scribbles and scrabbles

They lie on the tables

Blurry vision through grey eyes

Always murmuring hellos before goodbyes

A frayed cord

Who can not adapt

The pencil is my sword

Opening up another world with a zap

Ride down the witch's trail

The yellow brick road

Down the hole I accidently feel there be many stories to unfold

Written, drawn, and within my mind

Each revealing in a dream

But gone soon with in the steam

All that is left is a faint memory