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Picture Credits:
When I was just a little boy,
way back when, in school.
The other boys would make fun
of my writing and call me a fool.
They all said you must be gay
to write with Prose and Rhyme.
Threw my books, gave me looks
and pushed me around all the time.
I was really little back then
and would not stand up and say.
It's not right and I won't fight.
So won't you please go away.
I heard them laughing all the time,
but fought against their oppression.
Then in High School I got my chance
and gave them back their lesson.
As I got older, a little bolder
and too big to push around.
My popularity rose, with my prose.
For the girls all liked the sound.
So I wrote about all life's lessons
and the girls seemed to stand in line.
They said you're sweet, wouldn't it be neat
if the other boys knew how to rhyme.
The other boys were so jealous,
of how I was liked by everyone.
They called me names, played their games,
but I was having the fun.
So like the old adage says,
don't judge a book by it's cover.
You must try, to look inside,
treat your enemy as your brother.
You never know, where you'll go
and whom you will be drawn too.
What you did, to the little kid.
Might come back, to harm you.
For what comes around, goes around.
You really reap what you have sown.
Back in school, they thought me a fool,
if they had only known.
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