I think you cryptic, think you wise.
Perhaps in that is our demise.
A sophomore in the bloom of youth
to you I speak, with words uncouth.
Apologize f'r my deplorable acts:
my unkind gestures, my lack of tact.
Intentions mean well, I want nothing but good
Show me atonement, and I'll do as I should.
Dear acquaintance, not friend nor foe,
I'd like to continue, I hope you don't go.