My Hate For Valentine's Day
I hate the colors red and pink, I do.
They bring me to despise this winter day.
You ask me what is love, I have no clue.
It's one day out the year I feel this way.
Flowers and chocolates being exchanged
he spent so much, I can't believe my eyes.
I really mean it, he dropped major change,
must be the price to get between her thighs.
I do not want to hear another song
about love on my way to class.
This guy singing could not be more wrong,
whoever wrote this crap can kiss my ass!
Please excuse me, I have just one last whine:
screw you true love, I hate you Valentine!
Yes, this is a reposting of a poem I did last year. I wrote this around Valentine's Day of 2007 (as if you couldn't tell) and was inspired by the pure frustrations that come over me that time of year. There is nothing like expressing your true feelings without having to pay for a doctor.
This was written during the time of my life where every poem I wrote could be categorized under "Poems of a heartbroken college student." This year though, I've tried to expand from that.
I made a few minor changes, such as punctuation. Other than that, I have no new insight to add here.
Enjoy pure frustration and borderline depression formulated in a poem.
I hate the colors red and pink, I do.
They bring me to despise this winter day.
You ask me what is love, I have no clue.
It's one day out the year I feel this way.
Flowers and chocolates being exchanged
he spent so much, I can't believe my eyes.
I really mean it, he dropped major change,
must be the price to get between her thighs.
I do not want to hear another song
about love on my way to class.
This guy singing could not be more wrong,
whoever wrote this crap can kiss my ass!
Please excuse me, I have just one last whine:
screw you true love, I hate you Valentine!
Yes, this is a reposting of a poem I did last year. I wrote this around Valentine's Day of 2007 (as if you couldn't tell) and was inspired by the pure frustrations that come over me that time of year. There is nothing like expressing your true feelings without having to pay for a doctor.
This was written during the time of my life where every poem I wrote could be categorized under "Poems of a heartbroken college student." This year though, I've tried to expand from that.
I made a few minor changes, such as punctuation. Other than that, I have no new insight to add here.
Enjoy pure frustration and borderline depression formulated in a poem.
