My name is Pemo, I’ll tell you a tale.

Like all tragedies, it will begin with

Apparent happiness. The morn was pale,

Alight with promise. Beginning a myth-

A story filled with subtle tragedies-

Does not begin with despair; rather smiles…

Innocent pupils… naïve tendencies…

These attributes make up youth like floor tiles,

Falling in perfect rows and alignment,

Always constituting their own downfall.

Their ends are impossible to prevent,

Outcomes are brief, appearing in a squall,

And peals of laughter turns into distraught wails…

My name is Pemo, I’ll tell you a tale.