I lay in bed, and suddenly, a pain, from my toes to my head. It shoots through my body, jolting me and making me feel weird, thoughts run through my head as I search. Only to find an arrow in my knee. Cupid, **** you, you little flying heathen. You got me, but I don't wanna celebrate, who do I love? No one in this world can love a person like me, no one loves scars, cupid. Leave me alone, and tell me when Valentines day passes.
A little poem-thing about Valentines, a lot of us dread it because we don't have what that day celebrates. Love.