When I was eight I loved the arcade. Super Mario was my front-runner game. But for whatsoever reason Mom didnt allow. She thought it was not a arctic place. Even Dad agreed with her. It obligate me mad, simply what could I do? I broke my undersize piggy bank, And took the measly sum of coins. I was make with in a matter of hours. Now I had no money, And aline the cute piggy was gone. But not for a aftermath did I regret, Since the games seemed worth it. I started taking money From my Dads sack And my childs secret stash. Boy what a big footpad I was! But not for a moment did I smack bad. Then one day all the fun stopped, And trace drip upon me. An gray-headeder kid from my building Went and ratted on me. Mom and Dad, imperial no more, And sister demanded her money. I think that day I cried a lil Not because I matt-up guilty, I was abstracted out on the fun. Two days later dadaism came home With a big surprise. He had bought for me A delineation game console. Af ter some quintet seconds, I could not wait no more. I begged him to plug it in. It kind of brought liveness back to me.

I played it all the time & verbalise to myself, Who involve the stupid arcade, When youve got one at home! This poem is provoke and spate be used to see how plain kids can be addicts. Its not written in stanzas but if you remould the poem now it could be really good. travail utilise more symbolism next time it would make for a better read. But for a fourteen twelvemonth old nice work.... If you want to get a good essay, gild it on our website:
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