The Sky is Mean

by Jason Alan

I was thinking of what I might come up with if I had started writing poetry at a very young age. I pictured a rainy day when I couldn’t go outside and imagine it might be something like this:

The sky is mean

It won’t let me play.

I just want to go

Outside today.

Don’t the clouds know

That it’s summertime?

Makes me not even want

to rhyme this poem anymore.

The sky is mean.

The clouds are stupid

Poo poo heads.

I don’t like them.

I wish they would

Go away

So I can play today.