Chapter One: The Legendary Masterpiece

There I was gulping down my fourth cup of tea in my dear cozy room wondering what to pour on these blank pages of mine. While, of course, I was being subjected to the fierce look of the demonly creature by the door. Well some you might say she is my sister. But my lord, the justice, I beg to differ, as I call it a gentle difference between thoughts of humanity. 

If you do not mind this dramatic accent of mind and the scary looks of the demon, I may now peacefully listen to the screams of news anchors as they provide the most senseless things. Just like this time, they are there screaming their throats out of this chef who made a new dish which is apparently a masterpiece. Well I would have solved the debate, had I any knowledge of lavishly decorated expensive cuisine, but that brings my mind to another masterpiece, or as some of you may say A Legendary Masterpiece 

A LEGENDARY MASTERPIECE 

Wandering from the cloudy thoughts to the crystal rhymes of mine,

Every once in a while, I encounter something of mine in the deepest of my mines,

This time I present among you the legendary story of a young clumsy boy.

On a rainy day, not much different for today,

In the most dampy corner of the room, was he to be found scribbling all over the papers,

Oh it was his literature project, which called the Shakespeare out a young clumsy kid,

His creativity was wavering all over it,

The pages were ruled, inks were spilled,

And the glitter was sprinkled.

When the chirping birds turned into singing crickets,

It was done, finally done the legendary masterpiece,

Just two things remained out of it, as I say the 'legendary' and the 'masterpiece',

Why may you ask for it did not have a heading,

I mean what is a book without a cover,

It was not that he did not knew what it was,

It was just that he did not knew how to write it,

Or as I must say how to write it fancy or more accurately aesthetically appealing,

He had a terrible handwriting not much different from mine, 

Oh, but this insecurity of his mattered a lot to him.

Oh, the weak and fragile body of his, shivering by the insecurities of his,

Searched for his big old but "not so wise" sister,

An unwillingly chosen parent as an Asian I must call them,

She could write the extending lines of A, or the curvy body of C, or the ridges of M,

She could but as I always tell God does helps a lot, but not so effectively when we desire it,

Well as you may guessed his sister was mysteriously absent in the time of most delicacy,

I always say a lot, but this time let me say you what someone else once said,

"God helps those who helps themselves"

Oh, back to story, lost and failed the young clumsy boy sat there crying,

The future seemed bleak, the curious thoughts of seemed lost,

But the coins were meant to flip and tables to turn,

He stood and wrote the best of what he could,

And it was indeed incredible, 

No, my dear listeners, two things seldom come true fairy tales and midday dreams,

It was infact ugly, the ugliest some may say,

But it was done the not so legendary masterpiece, 

I pondered question prior, what is a book without a cover, I guess, it still is a book,

Well the work may not amaze us or fancy the generation to come but it was definitely meant to be remembered at least by him,

For it held a tale, a tale of his adventure,

A tale which is yet to be told.