Nineveh

Some days during writer’s block

The B-boys come knocking on my door

And try to sell me their product

Thinking it’s a companion and not a distraction

So then I’m the Hustler of Oral Diction

And I rhyme my name with “friction” and “fiction”

But the next day I realize that I stepped off my trail

And that I’ve been consumed like Jonah in a fish of rhythm

I cannot feed the youth with these heartless lines

Nineveh (the youth) is being raised by the whale.

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