When I was eight, I was told to write a poem On green sugar paper, talking about the weather So the teacher could decorate the walls And show that her class was creative. I couldn't think of anything to write And so I was never put on the wall with all the other kids. When I was eleven, I was told to read poetry And so I was spoonfed Michael Rosen's rhymes And got told that the experience was enjoyable And that literature could be entertaining and fun. I never felt touched by a single letter of his And so I didn't laugh with all the other kids. When I was fourteen, I was told to compose poetry That could be put in a young poets anthology So that our school would seem literate and poetic. All the other kids wrote about flowers and autumn Whilst I wrote a sonnet about Hristo Stoichkov And so I didn't get published with all the other kids. When I was sixteen, I was told to study poety Acquaint myself with Heaney, Duffy, and Hughes So I could be confident in my exams and essay writing. I told the teacher that I didn't like poetry And that poets just bled onto paper for profit And so I got worse grades than all the other kids. When I was nineteen, I began to write poetry Because you happened to make me fall in love with you So I bled onto the page for you and you alone And then burned the pages to cinders in case you found them. And the reason that you changed my heart Is because you're not like all the other kids.