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Periodic Table: The Elements of You & Me©

Kyla Bingham (Written circa September-October 2011 – modified January 25, 2012)

You can call me helium cuz I rise above.

Iron shouldn’t float, but that’s exactly what I do cuz I’ve got a core of pure gold, and it’s overlaid with love.

Breathe that in, I’m oxygen, breathe so deep, you think your lungs’ll burst.

Now add two atoms of hydrogen, cuz I’m all you need to quench your thirst.

But you played fickle and jumped around on me like mercury daring to make my temperature rise.

So I was forced to bury you deeper than silver, I had you all the way at the earth’s core and still wasn’t done cutting you down to size.

What’s that? Now you’re crying—eyes looking like I threw chlorine in your face.

You messed with me and honestly, you woulda been better off eating arsenic—cuz I’m about to chew through you faster than a moth does old lace.

I coulda built you up strong like calcium

But you crossed me. So now I must crush you—leave you crumpled like aluminum.

Why’d you hafta go step outta line?

I didn’t wanna cut you this deep and leave you burning from being doused with this verbal iodine.

You’re faker than breasts of silicon,

Weaker than Superman on an IV of krypton.

You’re so all over the place; I think you best ask “doc” to up your dosage of lithium.

Lord knows I can’t deal with your erratic ways so we can’t go back and we have no future—not even if you had a Dolorian and plutonium.

People like you will never change; wouldn’t help if y’all were made of copper & nickel.

So it’s my job to slice you outta my life and cut you down with a decisive swing of my linguistic sickle.

After that, I freeze you ‘til it burns, like liquid nitrogen, then leave you teetering on the brink.

And just when you think you’re safe, I’ll shove you off the edge, watch you shatter, observe as you rot in the pit of despair until like sulfur you begin to stink.

Did you really think you could compete and outclass me? I’m a flawless, priceless diamond; that much is obvious by my sparkling wit.

Whereas you? You’re just cheap zirconium—purely counterfeit.

You’re a washed-up has-been, a dingy peon.

I’m a glowing marquis for all the world to see—flickering, flashing and lighting up the night like a sign of neon.

My mind is full, it’s a forged steel trap, and stronger than galvanized titanium.

You’ve got nothing of worth to share—it’s so hollow it echoes inside your cranium.

And if these words have been harsh, I can’t and won’t apologize—this is my manifesto of feelings and emotions—there’s simply no stopping or combatin'  ‘em.

Besides, why would I even want to fight it? Not when every utterance I make is unadulterated truth and my tongue’s drippings are liquid platinum.