Wow, look at this! Don't you hate it when your title is equivalent to your description? Because I do too. It's slightly unprofessional, just like all the other things I rant about in this book... -- PLEASE NOTE: (as of 2019) I was much younger when I wrote this book, and much of what I said isn't as well considered or said exactly how I would go about it now, and I might not even agree with it all. Though there is immaturity within these chapters, people do seem to enjoy it, so I will leave it up. Thank you for understanding and allowing my younger self to voice her thoughts.

Sometimes poetry just bleeds out of me. Funny poetry, serious poetry, poetry that has good meter and complicated stuff, or poetry that's just a jumble of rhyming words. <Note: The first 20 or so are MOSTLY old poems, kinda light and silly and focusing on rhyming, and after that it's mostly the depressing freestyle stuff I currently write (just in case you like one and not the other :P)>

Eight year old Estella Witherwise has just moved into a castle (a real castle!) with her half brother Charles Witherwise. She there makes the acquaintance of Adriana, a princess (a real princess!) and discovers an enormous, mysterious library that holds a secret. Meanwhile, Charles seems to have a secret of his own. Why is he neglecting Estella? Why is he so downcast?