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  this is the part where i make a personal
     connection with you.
              i was sexually abused as a child.
(not really, but it's not like you'll call
                me a liar).
  i'll describe those events with terror
     and mania threaded into the rhetoric,
    i won't tell you straight out; i'll cover it
with euphemism,            why?
      because i'm artistic,
  and your real childhood trauma
  doesn't make you a poet.

  now i create an elaborate, extended
       metaphor out of this experience,
    and just so you don't forget,
th theme will come back up again.

   maybe i'll go on to talk about
  my first sexual experience,
    i'll base the guy off of the gorgeous Asian
kid i've had a crush on in math class
     since freshman year,
       but you don't need to know that part.
i'll throw in some vulgarities
   an exaggerated BLOWJOB to catch your attention,
      the college kids are sure to snap for that line.
   throw in a "fuck" and the crowd
        loves me, but wait,
  i tie in the color of his eyes back into
    the metaphor from before.
      bam!

       and for the finale?
    i'll spew out rhythmic hypocrisies,
blurting out alliterations like a
   literature professor with Tourette's.
     it doesn't make sense, but it's my own
sub-urban rap,
        'cause i wasn't raised in the ghetto,
    i was raised a middle class white,
  oh yeah, and just when you thought i couldn't
       play the race card, i'm Jewish.
  Hannukah. Passover. wait for it, The Holocaust.
  oppression, depression- did i mention i slit my wrists?
       you are my Nazi, babe.

  i end with a witty simile that will take you
   so long to decipher,
           you'll shout "OH"
        the next night with a smile, shaking your head
              in the hyperbolic darkness.