14 December 2008

December #9

The red haired girl who sits beside you laughs
behind your back. She thinks you're slow, you know,
she thinks your jokes are bad. In Math you graphed
your ex and why she left you so alone
But never did you manage to sum up
just who you were. High school is cruel, I know,
I long to give you peace. But I must hope
you'll find your way without my guidance through.
My boy, you'll fall, but don't we all? It comes
the same in the end. So I'll kiss your cheek,
you'll flinch and ask, perhaps, for a set of drums.
They're cool, you'll say. I'll sigh and pay this week.
You'll grow, you know, this life will fade away.
The burns will heal, the heat will cool some day.

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