Communet

One day for spite
We each had to write
A poem a peer would read,
The teacher grinned
Like we had all sinned
And set our thoughts to bleed.
Our pens delayed
But soon we obeyed
And splashed our pages red,
By symbol’s face
We wrote such a pace
We should all have been dead.

Now I, a child
So meek and mild
I never spoke a word,
Wrote with such strength
At such a length
I knew I must be heard.
My paper beamed
My word-voice screamed
With soul I never told,
A dazzling show
Of joy and woe
A masterpiece, behold!

And then it was time
By rhythm and rhyme
To read each other’s works,
I felt like a king
Since my poem would bring
Sound to my voice where it lurks.
The papers were passed
My heart beat too fast
Nervous to take to the stage,
So now here’s my crown
I’m left looking down
At the words that plague my own page.