This Christmas I decided I was going to print a book of my poetry for myself. It’s going to be filled with dark, depressing, silly poems, but it’s going to be for me. I thought about actually publishing it for people to buy, and maybe one day I will, but for now it will be my treasure. There will only be one copy printed (unless of course the printing is messed up). It’s very bizarre to be the only person who has something. I mean no one else on this Earth will have it but me. The poems are too depressing to share and I’m not exactly Edgar Allen Poe. Most of them are short little things, but some are cute little stories. I’m sure I’ll post some now and then, but for now, it’s my little treasure.