my first grade teacher said my writing was superb 

she said what I had was a gift and It was meant to be heard. 

my second grade teacher said I should be an author. 

my words were getting bigger and my sentences stronger 

so I wrote and I read and I formed and I sang 

and I had great ideas and creativity for days. 

My third grade teacher said my writing was good 

but my sentences ran on and my rhymes didn't work 

so I thought and I fixed, and I learned, and I grew 

to add periods, commas, and the different forms of “too”. 

My fifth grade teacher said I wrote like an angel 

but I didn't capitalize, and my spelling was painful 

so I studied, asked for help, read some books, tried my best. 

Capitalized proper nouns and memorized words for the tests.

 My eighth grade teacher said that I had some potential 

but a clear argument is more than essential. 

I turned work in proudly, high chin, and a grin 

but it came back circled with that stupid red pen. 

My creativity was gone and writing was no fun. 

I just did what I did to get the work done. 

I told myself I’d never write a story again. 

I feel so darn stupid I miss being 10. 

When I could write on for hours, tell stories for days. 

When there were no F’s, and there were no A’s. 

When my pencil hit the paper, I wasn't afraid. 

I was truly so confident of the work I had made. 

As I read this out now I trust you know 

I am using no commas or parentheses 

and this last line most certainly won't flow.