The Painful Lesson

I wrote a story in Grade 3;

Mom said she loved my work.

My brother Danny read it too,

and it just made him smirk.

Later, when we were alone,

he said it was plain dumb,

but I didn’t believe him

and that was cause of Mom.

When cleaning out my room today,

my story reappeared,

and today, I’m in Grade 4 —

I’ve grown another year!

I read my story, every word,

and couldn’t put it down,

and when I finished reading it,

all I could do was frown.

It was about some goblins

who opened up a store,

and then they just decided

to go and fight a war.

They fought the war for three years —

then suddenly, they won,

and then they started dancing!

The story was then done.

The story is confusing

and really makes no sense.

The more I thought about it,

the more I just got tense.

The thing the story taught me

is last year I was dumb,

and that my brother Danny

is smarter than my mom!

5 thoughts on “The Painful Lesson

  1. Writing is like that. I still have that happen to me. I look at some old stuff and go, “Who wrote this drivel?” But, there are times when I go, “That’s really pretty good. Why don’t I write stuff like that anymore?”

    Liked by 1 person

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