In the beginning I was rather frail.
School was not a complete smooth sail.
Words of hate drove me to solitude.
The sadness I felt was at a large altitude.
To forget the troubling world,
I used books to block the insults so many had hurled.
Books became my escape.
All my feelings I hid behind a paper ink covered drape.
Soon I found a paper and pen,
Could release the bad feelings from within.
A sanctuary is what ink gave me.
I could hide from the world or heal as I had begun to see.
Now I thrive in novels I read and write.
I did not allow myself to be drug down by spite.
A leader not a follower is what I am.
I am not shy and gentle like a lamb.
I am strong and proud.
I refuse to fall into a negative crowd.
My head is forever held high.
I will continue to wave melancholy good bye.