The stares,

They burn.

I shoot my hand up in class.

Teacher staring at my ass.

The beginning of a perfect liberal poem!

The glares,

They hurt.

I shoot my hand up in class.

Teacher knowing his room is now glass.

The beginning of a terrible Republican poem!

My peers just look at me and roll their eyes.

My peers just look at me and try not to realize,

But they know I’m about to rip the black lesbian’s argument apart.

They know I’m about to make the class a game board and my words a dart.

Have to admit she was going strong at the start,

Trying to be specific and sound smart.

But soon confused her feelings for facts.

I can sometimes be a person who overreacts,

But this is just not one of those cases,

As I am about to debate her about races.

I can feel the heat of my peers’ faces.

This girl's my friend, I hope a can stay in her good graces.

She talks along the lines of slavery and statistics,

And as she drones on she loses her logistics.

I try to bring up affirmative action.

I feel her tense up in a definite detraction.

I make points about the voting demographics

I notice her eyes are doing acrobatics.

She's nervous because of her losing tactics,

The push of victimhood is not that attractive.

Her head nods with me as I go,

She's starting to agree and it shows.

But in the end of the day,

This was just another way,

To have a good conversation,

About the state of our divided nation.