I set the ink bottle and quill on my desk. Ok so I can write a small poem if Alexander can write a ton of essays. I took a deep breath and started to write.
Daydreams are nothing like reality
Alexander please like me
I crumple throw it over my shoulder. I throw my fists on to the desk and scream. Why could I not do this? I know I'm smart but why can't I write a stupid poem?!
"Angelica are you okay?" A familiar soothing voice comes from the doorway. I turn to see Alexander standing in the doorway with a worried look in his eyes.
"Alexander, I just want to write a poem. But I'm too scared of messing up" I lie, I'm not scared of messing up. I'm scared of embarrassing myself. He hugged me as tears ran down my face. He took my right hand, which held the quill and began to teach me everything he knows about poetry.
A hour later Alexander and I finished and he left to go help Washington with something. I took a deep breath and dipped my quill in the ink bottle. I began to write this:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
You can see hope in me
I see hope in you
I took my quill off the paper and cleaned it off. I set it in the case and sighed. Poetry is hard.
YOU ARE READING
Schulyer
FanfictionA book filled with short stories about the Schulyer sisters from Hamilton Lin minuel Miranda owns the rights to thethe musical not me
