Author's Note: I really don't like the ending of this poem. The beginning
and middle is fine, but the end lacks. I will go ahead and post this, but
in the future I might revise it.

Bona-fide Realist

When she told me there were 3 others,
I racked my mind for names.
One name surfaced
So that meant 2 people remained.
"The big titty girl."
Yeah, he would like that
She was cute, popular
And slender, not fat
When she said it wasn't "Titties,"
It completely flabbergasted me
Days after that I observed
Wondering who those 3 could be
Like sunrays beaming through a window,
It finally dawned upon me.
"Is it Aye?" I audaciously asked
Stunned, silence was her response.
"How did you guess?" she questioned at last
Skimming over the details,
I craved to know the additional 2
She tossed hints my way when.
"That shit ain't true!"
2 down
1 to go
It was someone I had suspected
"Say it ain't so!"
Girl I was talking with - See
So those are the girls he wanted to jam his "dee"
Inside their "pee"
It really doesn't matter
Since he and I had broken up
So why do I feel as tattered
As the fragments of his school ID?
I preach about being this bona-fide realist
But maybe it's time I become real with myself
And admit that I have feel
For him unfortunately that are left.