At the young age of six, I walked out to my Mom who was sitting outside one morning on our doorsteps, and told her that I had wrote my own poem. She listened carefully as I proudly read it and praised my work. After that, I began writing. I fell in love with rhyming words. At times growing up I remember wishing that my hand could only keep up with my head. I would sit up at night, cut on my bedside lamp, and write poetry that came in my sleep. Sometimes I remember riding down the road at night when my parents were out late and jotting poems on napkins by the streetlights. I've wrote t more...
