"dickheaded" poems
I still remember that one summer afternoon.
I saw you while I was sitting with my worn out desk,
Drawing a new cartoon,
And aiming for a better picturesque.
Freckles were visible upon your cheek,
But your eyebrows weren’t that on fleek.
Maybe it’s because of the cut you have there,
From a stout man in front of you, bearing a death glare.
In one blissful moment, my trash bin went flying,
As he was about to punch you again.
He then took a step back, looking like an ugly duckling!
You saw me through my window and gave me a smile that’s so inane.
It was never okay when I had too many hideous drafts,
Drafts that were always behind my beautiful crafts.
But then, I knew that you needed them as your defense.
And so I had them, even if they would cost ten thousand cents
My parents would always scold me,
For I was the very reason why our front gate was always messy.
But I didn’t care enough
As long as you stay safe from that dickheaded buff.
Then came a time when you didn’t show up.
I was badly ready for my defense gaming,
That I lay my head on my desk, playing Mom Jeans’ Death Cup,
As the sun’s power is already taming.
Days passed, crumpled drafts were already overflowing.
Still, I am waiting for you, my darling.
I am running out of paper.
But still, my hope will not waver.
When I cannot take it anymore, I went outside.
I was dancing through the streets like a happy bride,
And then I stepped on a crumpled piece of newspaper.
“A 17-YEAR OLD BOY WAS KILLED WITH A DOUGH SCRAPER”
Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC