There is something about me that people find hard to construe.
I’m only eleven years old even though I was born in 1972.
Because I was born on February the 29th, I only have a birthday once every four years.
I am the only eleven year old in my town who is able to legally vote and drink beer.
When people hear that I’m eleven, they send their kids to play with me but it’s something they soon regret.
When the parents see me, they think I’m a bad influence because their kids see me drinking and smoking cigarettes.
But smoking has caused me some health problems that almost made me croak.
I’m the only eleven year old in the world who has had a heart attack and a stroke.
This is a fictional poem.