Tristan Robert Lange

Oh Snap

I wish I could map

Every time I hear the snap,

Not a gentle rap,

But more of a slap—

You know it?—

It hurts like crap

When one tells me that

Out of it I need to snap.

Words sticky like sap—

A mosquito’s trap—
I now feel guilty for the slap.

But wait!

That wasn’t even my rap.

You ignore any overlap;

I refuse to fall in that trap

Where I encase my voice

Within resin amber—not sap—

So that you can avoid the tap

Of your conscience’s clap

For landing a hard slap.

Well, here’s the rap,

You are full of crap.

I can’t snap out

When I’m tethered with a strap

To anxiety—

And you trigger me—

Oh snap!