Mother Functioning Math
You’re up at the white board again
Diet coke drinking and deriving
Because your Calculus
Is a class on the edge.
Yes, we know.
We can bet our mother function on it.
Oh,
I’m sorry.
Let me rephrase my language
Much like the problems you throw
That turned numbers
Turned letters turned numbers
On white on black on white
Until everything is bleeding
Out of my head and leaving
Bright red stains on the paper
In the shape of “X”s.
There’s just one thing
I don’t understand,
Besides the different
Mixes of x and y prime.
Why are you paying a good amount time
For half a broken girl
That can only spit out half decent rhymes?
You can’t expect a formula from me
Cause I’ve seen what happens
When you try to plug things into life
You see, 2 + 2 doesn’t equal
4 more chances
So why
Do you insist on recalculations?
I’ve told you that
There’s only going to be
One right answer,
So take a left
And tell me that I’m wrong
I’m use to people
Giving up on me
Like how to numerically
Write the value of e
Or Pi
Because I’m the type of person
You just can’t take whole
So be rational and stop.
But you keep going on
Unashamed to be ashamed
While you rap about the chain rule
And how many sets of them
Our textbooks wear.
I guess I can only
Say one thing
To the teacher
Whose subject I hate to see
Thank you
For not abandoning me.