A/N: Today is Draco Malfoy's 30th birthday! I wanted to write a new fic for him today, but I was too lazy, so here is a crappy old one from my notebooks. It's in poem form, and it kind of sucks (don't judge me! I've gotten better!) but…yeah, here it is. :D
I've always been afraid
of thunderstorms, but I knew
since I was six
not to tell anyone.
My father would just laugh
and call me a coward;
tell me to be a man.
"Maybe Cruciatus will encourage you."
My mother would feel sorry for me,
but father (with his bright cold eyes like shining steel,
so cruel)
would convince her I was best left alone.
I couldn't tell my friends
for fear they would no longer respect me
(fear me.)
So on cold summer nights,
I lay wrapped in my sheets,
hugging myself
and waiting for the world
to blow itself apart.