Mercy (Lauren/You)

twenty-three: when there's nothing quite wrong but it don't feel right

"Rappers," My English teacher started, clasping his hands in front of himself. He was leant against his desk, in front of the room with what seemed like a smile. Never really seen him smile though, so I'm not sure."Rappers write poetry."

I heard someone beside me whined, like a dog, curiously. They must be curious as to where he was going with this. To be honest, I'm actually a little interested on where he was going with this too. Last class he just told us to write a poem, and he must have saw the disgusted looks on our faces when he said that.

I never really understood poetry. Did it have to rhyme? Is it like a story but simpler and gets to the point quicker? Was a poem a way to express a way you felt?

Shit. So many questions, no answers being given to me.

I leaned forward in my seat, resting my head on top of my desk, keeping my eyes on my teacher though. A slow breath escaped my lips, listening to my teacher explain what he meant by this.

He explained how poetry is music, and that music is poetry. He sounded redundant for at least twenty minutes because my classmates were asking him questions. They were asking the same questions but just worded differently. I didn't understand them at times, and I worried about that.

This is my generation.

"Now," he clasped his hands together once again, a breath of relief escaping his lips when he did. I nodded silently, satisfied like he was when there were no more hands up for a question. Suddenly, his eyes traveled to me and I regretted even moving at all."who is your favorite rapper, Y/N?"

I sat up, feeling my cheeks heat up when I saw everyone's eyes travel to me. I scratched the back of my neck nervously, shrugging my shoulders an answer. But it seemed like he didn't want that answer, because he spoke up once again.

"Come on, everyone has a favorite rapper."

I cleared my throat, feeling nervous once again when everyone's eyes turned to me. A breath escaped my lips as I thought of any recent rapper that has been stuck on my mind. The first rapper that came to mind was Drake, but then I marked that out because he wasn't necessarily my absolute favorite. Now, my favorite...

It would have to be..."J. Cole." I shrugged, answering his question. A satisfied smile formed on his lips, making me raise my eyebrow questionably.

But then my attention changed over to the person across the room who shouted,"Ayeee!" I chuckled when I saw a guy raise his hand, a lazy peace sign up as he smiled at me. He nodded at me with approval, his way of telling me that J. Cole was also his favorite.

The bell rang soon after, and everyone basically ran out of the classroom. I puffed air out of my mouth, glad the class was over, and began putting my things back into my backpack. I put my backpack on my right shoulder, lazily beginning to make my way out of the classroom.

"Y/N," I furrowed my eyebrows, stopping at the entrance, or exit now, to the classroom. I turned my head to look back at my teacher, my eyebrow rose with curiosity when I saw him raise a paper up."I loved it."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"Your poem." He lifted a paper up, and I squinted my eyes to see that my name was written on it. I hummed quietly, then scratched my head when I realized he complimented my work.

"T...hanks." I hesitated, clearing my throat when an awkward silence surrounded us. I turned my body then shuffled uncomfortably on my feet as he dug through his man bag. I just called it a man bag.

I was stopped from thinking about his man bag (still calling it a man bag, okay) when he extended a paper towards me. I stepped forward towards him and grabbed the paper and read it as he explained."It's a Poetry Out Loud thing in the county library. People go to read any kind of poems, personal or someone else's."