I pick up my old pencil

And start to write

I weave words together

In a way that even the most skilled

Little spider

Would be quite impressed

I describe and detail

Every little thing

I tell a tale of woe and revenge

Of sadness and joy

Of hatred and love

And on these pages

These old, cracking pages

I write about life

And about death

Yeahhh, sorry I don’t have many good ideas for this one.