People think of me as a

Bookworm, hand raiser.

Know-it-all.

But something that may come as a surprise to you.

I don’t know everything.

I don’t know trigonometry.

I don’t know alchemy.

I don’t know latin.

I don’t know how to ignore what they said about me.

     I don’t know how to cope with my brother's medical issues.

          I don’t know how to tell her how much she broke my heart.

          I don’t know how to make friends and keep them.

     I don’t know how to say, “I’m not fine”

I don’t know how to end this poem.

But a poem never ends. Not for the person who wrote it.