My dad is so stubborn! He keeps telling me to write my poem now! He does not understand that poetry is not an art that cannot be easily grasped, for though she is a dove in her beauty, she’s a slippery eel to possess. Yet eventually she turns from her persisting nature for the pursuit to fall into your silvery grip after only the longest of chases. Now that I told you how stubborn my dad is, my main problem is the poem I have not yet wrote for the poetry contest. Wait… didn’t I just write it?