Peter

The life of a writer,
What a life that is,
Creating someone into existence,
Watching them develop and grow.

His name was Peter, his genre was crime,
He wrote during all, of his spare time.

His story he thought brilliant, his characters superb,
It flowed well with the right adjectives, and not one misplaced verb.

Peter's friend stole his book, word for word,
About the detective and the killing spree,
Now I'd like to introduce someone completely absurd,
This person being, simply, me.

I have created Peter, given him his own life,
Maybe I will, one day, give Peter a wife,
And maybe, one day, Peter's story will grow,
Maybe, one day,
But right now, Peter tells me,
I cannot know.