I wrote this thing for an assignment my english teacher gave me in the 11th grade. It was an anthology of our interpretations of various topics he had given us. Mine was entitled "Musings of My Misanthropic Mind." Needless to say, it was very distinctive in it's flavor. No abstract ramblings then, there was definitely method to my madness. In any event, one of the topics was love (assigned for Valentine's Day, doesn't that just *reek* of originality? Well, it reeks nonetheless.) and although I absolutely despise poetry with every fiber of my being, I did take some kind of sadistic glee in reading this aloud after numerous sugary sweet presentations of sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. Yes, I even read the two cursewords and all. Whooo yeah, crossin' the line. Whatever.

WARNING: ***Suckass Poetry Alert!***

What is this knife that I feel in my gut
Wrenching and twisting my poor stomach shut
Why they call it "love."

What is this pain that I feel in my brain
Pounding and beating to drive me insane
I think it's called "love."

Hell, who needs it?
Certainly not I
I'd rather jump from a plane.
And fall through the sky.
"But what of Prince Charming?"
"You'll meet him someday."
I find that alarming
He'd best keep away
Only the lonely
Cling to these dreams
We cynics won't have it
Not by any means
It's not that I'm bitter
Or filled up with strife
It's just that I'm not pressed
To be someone's wife
So all the romantics across the land
Shove it
I'm not one to go for that love shit, man
Fuck it.

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