there was this one time
when some boy
looked at his friend
and said,

"you fight like a girl."

that same boy
called me a ****
and slapped my ***
when I walked by.

that same boy
got hit so hard,
his face smashed
against a locker in a
high school hallway.

that same boy
broke his nose and
chipped two teeth.

I looked down at him
and said,

"I fight like a girl too,
and I just ****** you up."

"I wish I could fight."
"You can."
"How? I don't know how
to punch or move."
"You fight with words.
It's called kung fu typing."
"Kung fu typing?
Did you just make that up?
Doesn't sound very cool."
"It's not supposed to be.
But if you master it,
you'll never need to worry
about not knowing
how to punch or move."

You confuse karate with love.
You punch, kick, and block.
You master the form,
Practice and practice.
You remember the creed.
Karate is not love.
You don’t kickstart the heart,
You can’t block love out,
Or punch it into submission.

I confuse love with poetry.
I read, write, and dream.
I master the edict of the pen,
Recite and recite.
I remember the sonnets.
Poetry is not love.
You don’t stanza the heart,
You can’t make a metaphor out of love,
Or personify it into breathing.

When will we learn?
When will you stop kicking Cupid?
When will I stop serenading him?
When will we stop this silly interpretation of love?

I don’t know,
But I’ll stop if you stop too.

I try to make your place
in my overweight heart
as small as possible

and yet

you punched your way
through my chest
with only two words

(my angel)

No more tears for me.
Rap and punching
Pain is my new relief.

Remember kids, ****** is never the answer. ****** is, of course, the question. And the answer is yes.

Remember kids, if you ever stab someone, punch them where you're gonna stab. They'll think you punched really hard, they won't realised you stabbed them.