No one asks where I am from.
I must be from a place where no one likes to come.
I have always checked these books in and out.
Peter you’re a loser with out a doubt.
No one knows that I exist.
I host the fiesta of the non fiction list.
Putting books in ABC order.
Bossing them around like they were my daughters.
My peace and quiet is always lost.
When people complain how much a book cost.
What they say must be true.
I have no life and nothing to do.
No one knows I will commit suicide today.
Hopefully the books will see it my way.
Carrying on to find a new reader.
But none better than the Liberian Peter.
This poem was written/submitted by Sharod Blake.