It was in Creative Writing class that I first discovered my love-

a true and faithful love-for the wonderful world of poetry. 

Before it was all just words to me. Words lined up like strange little 

soldiers marching in an odd formation, words that made my teachers

buzz with excitement. I never could fully grasp the meanings of 

the poems I read. They slipped through my fingers like how sand falls in an

hourglass. I'd stare...and stare...and stare all while the word soldiers blurred, falling

wounded in the battle of my mind. Resentment grew deep in my belly 

for those word soldiers. I hated them, no matter how hard they fought to please me. 

It was in Creative Writing class that my eyes finally opened to the wonderful 

world of poetry. That first time I took a pencil to paper, creating my own word army, 

it was as if I finally found my calling. That first poem I created took my breath away.

I haven't been able to breathe the same since nor will I ever be able to again. 

The resentment has now been replaced with a deep, satisfied love.