Not Her Class! Poem by Aba Radical

Not Her Class!



Not her class!

Sometimes I come in last
Other days I walk her past
Campus demands from us
It's the same task
But life itself is not for the fast
Yet she communicates that I'm not her class.

Severally-outnumbered times
She has rolled out her eyes
She doesn't even miss my thighs
From the top of my head
To the sole of my feet
Just like the icy hands of death
She doesn't forget my teeth
And she communicates that I'm not her class.

She respects money but not the person
So without the ‘Kudi' she won't be there for another reason
A poor person has no colleague or fraternity
Thank goodness I can choose my counterparts
It's rather my siblings I can't do anything about
And she is definitely not the one I can't do anything without
It's funny sometimes but it's my flaws she tames
So many humans but humanity fades
Thus she communicates that I'm not her class.

The eyes are useless when the mind is blind
She sees my flaws on the outside
and hates the beauty inside
The one thing that has been originally designed
At a point in time
i came to realize
Some people have to stay in my life
But not in my heart
She is not my wife
I'll get that into head and not my hat
Oh I get it; she says that I'm not her class.

When I offer help she says,
"An intelligent man freely gives unsolicited counsel
A wise man keeps his council until all options are considered"
Yet she forgets that before God we are all equally wise and foolish
When I photograph my thoughts she questions
"I wish I can do more than write- too much beautiful talk"
Well instead of wishing you could do more
Manufacture toothpick for Ghana!
She still insists that I'm not her class.
Every time she looks at me
She never forgets to tell what she sees
That I'm less of a person
Compared to everyone else
But little miss perfect
Doesn't give me the chance
To make up for what I fall short off
Oh I get it; she says that I'm not her class.

I'm nowhere close to a perfect girl
I'm broken, I have cracks and fault lines
Though it appear sharp, hostile and fragile,
When perceived from the inside,
My fragment forms a beautiful mess.
She says that I'm not her class
I'm okay
I'm supposed to be real not perfect
So I might never be her class.

Off course I get it, I'm definitely not her class.

NB: ‘Kudi' - money

9/04/18-p4

…Inspired by E.S…

Aba Radical
The Photographer of Thoughts
Fb: Mercy Aba Blankson
Twitter: @aba radical
IG: Aba Radical
+233249953609
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Thursday, May 30, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: friendship,selfworth
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