I have a Troll

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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