When I still went to school with Muggles, one of the smartest people in the world gave me some advice.
'When what you want to say, is something you can't express out loud, write it.' His last name ended with…-tzer. I think and his first name…was Patrick…that's what all the kids called him. He was strict. He was in the marines before he became the English teacher for the small school my relatives had allowed me to attend. I called him Mr…Shartzer that was it. I had respect for him; I guess I still do if I'm following his advice.
Here goes nothing:
I remember a time, when my hands used to bleed
Hot oil and warm fumes
From the fire that burned
Screams for small transgressions
That my little mind
Could not even phantom
Then I saw my name
Ever so clear
On a post
Haven had come
There isn't fear there
Well not from family
Just from a megalomaniac
That was just like me
I didn't have to cook
I didn't have to clean
All I had to do
Was hold my wand steady
To hurt
To torture
To kill
The tears never stopped
I never felt more like the person
I was trying to destroy
Even the same person
Ruined our lives
I rather liked
Being in my cupboard
Reading in English
Learning new words
To put in a book
But when I was eleven
I was ripped away
To save a world
That could not salvage
For itself
I may not have
A muggle education
Or a mind like Voltaire's
But I know
The worser
Or these
Two evils
By Harry James Potter
