Why my son is so much way cooler than your son

(Just kidding with the title.)

My boy, Nick is 11 years old.  He’s experimenting with a brooding, adolescent side of his personality.  (Yippee.  I thought I had a couple more years.)

At any rate, he wrote this amazing poem– completely without my help.

Raindrop and Heaven

 

A raindrop falls perfectally

Through the bars

Of the rusted

Metal stairs

Of which I sit under

To hide

In my turtleshell

Of a jacket

 

I do this

To hide from the world

And the cruelness of recess

 

It hits my knuckle

As more come down,

Perfectally through the bars

 

This is like heavan

Where everything, and  everyone

Is perfect

But that makes everyone and everything

Not perfect

It is like our world.

 

If our world

Were all humans

Then no one would be human

 

Or if everyone

Had superman

Powers

Then no one would

Be super.

 

This raindrop

Cannot fall

Perfectly

Through the bars

Of the rusted stairs

Because nothing is perfect in

This world

 

None of us are perfect

Yet

When we get to heaven we are

All perfect

But that one raindrop is not.

 

That brings this whole poem

Back around again.

 

A raindrop falls

Imperfectly.