'That Girl'

There was a girl,
That I used to like,
Her hair was brown,
With a curl,
She was just my type.

I was young: 11, 12, 13?
She did a paper round where I was living,
I’d see her out the window every morning,
At 8:15, and I had school, so when I saw her I’d be leaving.

Making sure I was looking clean,
With wax in my hair and a cheeky grin,
I’d not stop and stare, but from time to time,
We’d catch eyes and she’d look at me and smile.

And that’s how it went,
For years and years,
We’d never talk,
But I’d fallen for her,
Like a sinking stone,
In a pond or something.

And then I was sixteen,
Looking out of the same window,
And I’ll always remember that day,
When I saw her, and she wasn’t alone.

Another guy,
I couldn’t believe it,
He held her hand,
And kissed her, “that little shit!”

I thought they’d break up soon enough,
So I just had to endure and stay tough,
But even 3 months later,
He still helped her with her papers.

The pain that I felt those days,
Made my skin crawl, like a spider,
As every night went by,
I slept lighter and lighter.

And then one day, when I saw red,
I took my mother’s kitchen blade,
And when I saw them at my garden gate,
I pulled it out and made at his face.

He held his arm up to make a shield,
So I cut it, “he could’ve been killed”,
Said the copper,
But I was just so hate filled.

Anyway, I went to jail,
As trying to cut a boy’s face is GBH,
There was no bail,
My Mum’s not rich I’m not that lucky.

So the moral of this poem is pretty simple,
I’m not writing from jail, this is fiction.
But if a girl meets another guy,
Then she’s not worth your time,
In real life and in prison.