Do you ever sit there and wonder what if,
Maybe all the nonsense about life being a gift,
Is just a myth?
Think back to a birthday - lets say fifth,
And think about the presents you opened with a grin.
Wait what... you can't remember?... see here's the thing,
We cannot remember things that make us so momentarily happy inside,
Yet we will remember those that make us want to cry and hide.
I think we need to change this,
And get oneself to recollect about the small things that get us to sit in utter bliss.
I'm not a poet,
but one things for sure if I cannot say it,
I will display it,
On a site where I can share my thoughts upon it.
So listen,
This may be harder to come to terms with than long division,
Yet, this cannot be something to forget,
I want you to know, that you are perfect.
No matter how substantially bigger Kim Kardashian's backside is, compared to your own,
Or how much homework you have pushed aside with a tiresome groan,
You are you and able to do it.
Do what? Oh you know it,
I have said it enough times,
You are able to be whatever you want - just don't commit crimes,
Some will find reading hard,
And even be called/thought of as a 'retard',
A derogatory term that is so foul and bitter,
When I was called this, I would hide away on places like twitter.
That doesn't make me less of a human than another.
Take this like a lesson from an older sister or brother,
Sitting here thinking that I wish to be someone different,
Will not make my life plans at all sufficient.
God created you for a reason,
One that's not related to murder or treason,
But one that will let us succeed and strive.
To let our own personal drive,
Get us into a position where we feel at one with ourselves.
That may include having ones books published and sold off bookstore shelves,
Or traveling around the globe,
Or successfully learning how to use a probe.
Just because you may be called things so horrid and foul,
Doesn't mean you don't have fantastic knowledge of an owl.
At this point I have no clue,
What I am on about, but I need a word to rhyme with clue... so I will tell you not to smell glue.
Now I know this is terrible,
And slightly unbearable.
Sorry, sometimes I get too passionate and my thoughts run wild,
I guess that's why people call me the crazy child.
All these things I have spoken about above,
Relate to the topic of life being a gift,
Every single thing on earth, even Taylor Swift,
Is here for a porous,
And not a single one of you is worthless,
So take this from me,
With my own decree,
I declare that, I am a rubbish poet.


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I honestly don't even know what that was. I am a terrible poet or whatever you wish to call it. I was halfway through writing this at 1:30 yesterday morning after watching Skyfall.

What are you normally doing at 1am?

Forgive me for using the derogatory word... I had to make my point. If you didn't understand any of that... to put it simply...