My name is Steven.
I am a fifteen year old high schooler who is clearly infected with first-world-itis.
Misfortune seems to follow me into the light, so I write creative stories and poetry to get it out.
My poems are very simple; I try not to over-load them with complicated metaphors, but similes are more my style (:
I write to express, not to impress, but enjoy all the less~
Maybe there’s kindness in your old, white heart. Maybe we just got off on a bad start. Behind your jokes, and stereotypes, and games, You’re a teacher, all the same. And I was blind, you really are A crusty, healing battle scar.