I made this poem when I was seven:
I’m going to a friend’s birthday party,
I hope I’m not late,
I hope I’m not tarty,
Looks like I’ll be there by eight,
Wow those balloons great,
They make me feel like I’m flying,
Trust me I’m not lying,
That dog is trying to pop the balloon,
He’s biting at them like a baboon,
Suddenly the music stopped,
All the balloons had popped,
This sound made my spine rattle,
That sound meant battle,
One kid said “food fight”,
We were at it all night,
When it was time to go home,
I tripped on the garden nome,
When my mom’s car pulled in the drive,
I was more dead than alive,
What happened to you dear,
She said as I felt a tear,
I said the party went wrong,
Trying to look strong,
A fight happened and ruined the fun,
Then the party was all done.
