I was being told
what I am when I'm old
By people, my hands they hold
to never let me find the gold

Poem writing is what I want
Beautiful is my font
But that's silly, told my aunt
I am told what I can and can't

I am raised like a mouse
who is not allowed out of house
To be house off,
I'm told "not old enough"

With my mouth, I chat
With my hands, I use bat
I am a naughty rat
I am told to...