Thoughts of a Violinist Giraffe

The following is a few lines from a poem I'm planning to perform if ever I get a chance to. Because I really like how this went down, I'm making sure my creativity isn't stolen from me and that is why what you see before you is only a bit of what I would actually do when I get the chance. Be that as it may, enjoy the few lines I've written for this piece, cheers! I'm not trying to be ludicrous or anything, but when I was thirteen, I really did have my first love. I say "have", but to be honest, I didn't really have  her. It was more like I was standing on the sidelines, watching her go from guy after guy after guy; wondering the whole time that if I tried would I be the next guy...? To say that she was the only one I've ever fallen in love with would be a lie flying through my clenched teeth like an innocent man desperate to escape so he can live out the rest of his life with a loving family. That is to say, it's probable to ann...

They told me that everything will be ok, the moment I stepped outside the car and walked towards those glass-covered doors. Who would have thought that I'd go home sore all over, losing composure, and breaking down faster than the abandoned car I saw down the road? Every weekend was the same - wake up one Saturday, wonder if there are any clothes that don't stand out, and head into the car with my thoughts somewhere else: in the clouds, with the rain, and no one to feign interest. It was safe, in a way. My parents paved the way down to the pews that weren't too far from the exit, but weren't so far from the front that we couldn't listen to the preacher man preach. But my thoughts were elsewhere... When the potluck came around, my friends and I would go to the back of the church, right behind the spot where the preacher man would preach. I didn't mind. But I began to realize that the other kids, the more popular kids, were elsewhere... They...