Story

I see you and think you’re weird, A young kid growing a beard, But your eyes tell a story and I’m willing to hear, By the end of our talk my eyes are full of tears. It all started when you were little, Your dad had begun to teach you to wittle, The knife slipped and cut your thumb, That’s the first time your dad called you dumb. It didn’t end there, it escalated, Made you feel stupid and deflated, He said mean things and he hit you, Your mom thought there was nothing she could do. Every day you went to school, Teased by those who were so cool, Your arms were colored with bruises and cuts, You were a loser, a freak, a mutt. You couldn’t afford a razor to shave, Even if you tried to behave, Your daddy screamed and yelled that night, Let him beat you without a fight. You had no one to talk to, After all you’ve been through, Let it fester inside, No where else to hide. So here he is before me, Showing all he could be, Feeling worthless and out of time, And so I give him this rhyme. You’re not alone, I’ll be here, You’ll see from me there’s nothing to fear, Your dad is scared that you’ll discover something new, That something new is actually you. So when he raises his fist up high, To beat you down and let his punches fly, You raise your head and to him you say, I will not take this another day. Be strong, stand tall, Do not fall, Because if he can’t put you down, He loses with it his cruel crown. At the end of my line I give him a smile, I touch his shoulder and turn, my heels clicking on the tile, He catches my hand and everyone stares, He raises his fist, and victoriously pounds the air.