Sorrow On December thirty-first, I felt like was to burst, Not with excitement but tears, I sat crying listening to cheers, I was only eight, I hate that date, December thirty-first 2003, On that date woe was me, My life was all wrong, Although my mom was strong, She did not cry, But tears filled my eye, In two months and a year, I shed my last tear, The divorce was real, And as I eat my meal, Think of good, The was I should.

The End

Story by: Gabie, age 10, USA

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