The White-Boy Rapper: the Poet

By the end of my Poetry class, a boy who always sits to my left of the room, handed me a lined piece of paper.
Written in pencil all over, and in verse style was his poetic response to my initial slam expression of a recent experience:

“Last class you sounded pretty angry, from a broken heart –

Thought Cupid hit you with an arrow but it was really just a dart,
Those butterflies in your ribs just flew away,
And now you want to kill him every single day.
Started in a coffee shop, then it turned into love
But the love was fake –
like a black dove
You thought it was true, you thought it was certain.
Little did you know what was happening behind the curtains.
Now you know the truth, he’s just a liar;
I wish I could run him over but he’s not even worth a tire.
I too know the pain of the game,
It’s a shame.
He let water run down your face like the rain.
You don’t need him, he’s just another dick.
Maybe you went too fast, maybe you went too quick
It’s okay though cuz you learn from your mistakes
Just shake him off like an earthquake
Maybe he was scared cuz you’re too good for him,
That still gives him no right to blow you away like the wind.
I really hope this poem helps you out.
Read it over again next time you have a doubt.
If you’re looking for a hint, if you’re looking for a clue,
Just remember this: Mr. True will come to you.”
I read it over once I got home and was so amazed, so touched that a morsel of my heart even oozed through my veins and on to the paper.
I got those crying chills.
He listened to my every word and responded to them so meticulously, consoling me.
I just thought I’d share
As it’s one of the most thoughtful things, so rare
A boy has ever done for me,
He was too shy to have sung
So he
Handed me the paper
Letting me read it only later  –
On
Touching.
Big shout-out to the guy in my English class with the poetic genius gene. I appreciate it.
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