The Bard Poem by Jason Pack

He's pushed and he's shoved,
He thinks he's not loved.

He's beaten and hurt,
His face ground in the dirt.

He struggles for home,
To compose a tome.

He opens the door,
In danger no more.

He walks his hall,
Where he can't fall.

He sits to write,
To write all night.

He dips his quill,
His hands don't still.

Letters flow into words,
All of them to be heard.

He takes it to town,
Gath'ring all around.

He sings them a tale,
And his name they hail.