Writing Twisted Poems

In Room 4 we have been writing twisted poems this is mine.

        

                                                                AT NIGHT

The night was dark and deathly still there was hardly a sound. One Ruru calls it's own name  it's wing's are invisible and make no sound. Out in a shed a boy is listening for radio waves from mars this night. Out on the street teenagers throwing lemons at windows until they see someone come and spread out like peanut butter. A boy wriggles into a sleeping bag which is like a cocoon.

By Aaron