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Poetry from the Teenage NERD:
Part 1.

For two weeks in September,
I was younger,
but then I became me,
what I am now.
It's all I could be,
fornothing else would fit
in this odd world.
To be naught but yourself
is a disgrace and a sin.
It brings you down,
to a level that may
be a bit unwelcome.
Like the sting of an insect
that alighted on your arm.
Nettling you 'till you want to scream.
Something that can kill you
or be killed.
A great beast,
A pest no longer.



A light touch,
A small smile.
I'm lifted off my chair,
to be put right.
No thanks is needed.
He's there, always,
waiting for me.
When I'm ready, as is he.
A low whisper,
"I love you."


Here I stand.
High and mighty.
Untouchable,
In charge.
You may not like it.
But you don't have too.