Yo, boy, I'm serious.
by Francine DuBois

I can't read his eyebrows
Ever since he shaved those three stupid lines in them,
So he has to tell me that he's serious
When he stammers that he wants to kill me.

There are eighteen dimensions of hate
Within his words, but I can only find two,
The immediate urge to destroy that always lurks within him
(And explains the ill-advised eyebrow fiasco)
And the general misogyny that he developed
During the early 1990s at Rap Star University.

Like his fifteen minutes of fame, I run away
And shine on someone else with my attention,
Returning bittersweetly to remind him of how
He wronged me with those words I didn't want to believe.

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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