June 10, 2016
I have a Troll (that you can’t see)
Who thinks he is the boss of me.
He likes to hide in places, where
Only I can see him there.
Sometimes, when I try to speak
He twists my tongue until it’s weak
and ‘though I have great things to say
the other kids just walk away.
His very favourite place to stand
is on my ‘bestest’ writing hand
so all my words crawl on the page
like spiders in a frightful rage,
yelling, jeering, all day long
“How do you get it all SO WRONG?!”
He trips me up, he knocks me down
He mixes all my thoughts around
Then, just when I want to be busy
He flits around to make me dizzy.
He likes to mock, he loves to shout
I wish that I could drown him out
But all I hear is “Young man, will
you calm down, concentrate, SIT STILL!
And yes, I know he’s here to stay
but how I wish he’d GO AWAY!
Today my teacher spotted him
(I wish that she had swatted him)
She said to me “Perhaps your troll
is really into Rock and Roll…
…he can’t do sums, or read a book.
But could play drums? Or learn to cook?
Or parachute? Or ride a horse?
That would be up to you, of course.”
She picked him up, and whispered low
“You’ve done your worst, it’s time to go.”
So now he’s looking rather small
and nothing like a Troll at all.
I’d like to ski, at least to try
Or surf a wave fourteen foot high
Then lay upon the beach a while
To count the birds (or stars) and smile…
He’s still around, my Troll, but see?
He’ll NEVER be the boss of me!
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