To assure some kind of excellence one must have begun early. Mozart was four. The only thing I could do at four was bleed well. Even my breathing wasn’t up to par, my eating below average, but my bleeding, well, I excelled in that. With so much practice I became a superior bleeder, but it’s not a spectacular gift. I must do it in private and go unacclaimed. People pity me, doctors are concerned.
So I tried something that I learned early, I mean, speaking, telling stories, telling lies. Well, I had to explain the bleeding.
I see that someone, Lanning(?), "improved" on my poem!!
Prompt: Unknown