To ask why I write poetry is to ask why I breathe
Why am I alive
Why I am who I am
Why every single sentence I utter is artistic
To figure out why I write, speak, and think like moi
Say hello to my right and left brain, they’ll tell you the tale
Of how I received my poetic bale to sale the flow I’m about to spit at this teen audience
From my head to my toes my rhymes are like nuclear
Say hello to my left and right brain, which describe my life and desires
Right Brain: Hello, her name is Nyah and if you know her well,
Her very soul is made of passion, love and fire
But let’s go back to a time where she wasn’t always like this
Before now, her whole life was a hit or a miss
Left Brain: Hello there, reader, I’m the logical one in this rap
So remember, Righty here may not always be the most beneficial
When it comes to retaining what is logical in her neuron-driven map
Although everybody seems to like her more since everyone thinks I’m super and artificial
But let’s get to the point here about our lovely little host
I remember a time when she tried hard to make some friends
Quite illogical a move if you ask a cerebellum like I
Humans are much too difficult to even try and make amends (heh)
Times like these I wonder why she tries and with that statement, I sigh
Right Brain: Allow me to intervene here, my friends… Lefty, why would you say such vile words?
I understand you’re here to calculate the situation at hand, but
Such a pessimistic attitude is for broken birds
You’ll be part of destroying her confidence one day and leave her in a rut
Left Brain: Don’t call me that ever again… do you even know who you’re dealing with? For somebody just like you, I’ll keep this brief
All I’m trying to do is reflect on her reality (it’s my job!)
That’s right, and I never get a round of applause
Leave some of that for yourself for once
You allow her to stay in her own world too much and that’s merely fantasy
Leave your own little bubble once in a while or she’ll become a social dunce
(Ugh…) Why do I always get the brunt of all your work?
Reality lives for meaning, your side lives for being berserk
I’m tired, “Righty”, let me have some of the credit
At least I didn’t completely shirk work or we’ll be in debt
Right brain: C’mon, get a grip, man! Anything would be better than this reality? Heh, maybe even death…
Listen to me, Lefty, reality is only good for what it is: escaping it. Being a social reject has been inevitable from the start.
Why not stay in rainbow worlds of romance and imaginary friendships? Remember, I was there when you wanted to break everything into pieces
Let’s get serious for a few verses…
You never understood her, did you world?
You treated her as if she a completely freak while you made her emotions into a swirl
Why the hell do you think she talks all the damn time? She’s more intelligent than you’ll ever give her credit for
But just because she’s autistic you’ll give her hell and more?
So you decide to break her down to the point where she had to escape into rhyme
Not even now does the people she love completely comprehend that she’s torn between making a friend or just being alone in her head for it to finally bore
That no matter what, she deserves a chance so she escaped into the Internet and heavy metal
To help her cope until finally one day she found some friends but before she thought that she had to settle
For the emotionally draining people that had made her relatively pessimistic, which is why her poetic debut was relatively sadistic
Full of hate, depression and rage, with hints about her being an autistic
But after a while, her poetry became more emotional and full of beauty
As her life slowly improved which prevented her from being so moody
Left Brain: Uh…? I don’t recall much of this at all…
Right Brain: You weren’t really active in this point of Nyah’s life, Lefty…
Left Brain: … Touché.
Right Brain: Ignoring you, poetry and her oddball friends may have just saved her life
However, this wasn’t always the cure as she had to find confidence within herself and use her talents to save her from strife-
Left Brain: Logically, how can you be so sure that this was her only coping mechanism she had access to? I mean, analysis of the situation might have loosened her grip?
Right Brain: Did you JUST forget what I told you?
Left Brain: No, but –
Right Brain: Let me finish for once, all right?
Writing was her only escape from the evils in this world, art was to keep her focused on her ambition and goals –
Left Brain: Slow down with the fire and let me speak before overexertion takes its toll
I think everybody reading this gets the point now and I think everybody may have even had a spasm from the rhymes that even I admit were kind of cold
It’s about time we come back to reality, my hometown
Nyah: Huh, guess I was stuck in my own head again.