There it is, that thing they call "love" tossed around day in, day out some have felt it, and for it some have died but me, I don't believe if love were real, he'd look at me if love were real, I might be pretty if he was real, I might not fear that love isn't here but even if it's so, I should not care for who could love a girl like me? a girl that loves Something, you can see as well as air
I wrote this awhile ago, and I have to say it's foolish. I do believe in love, of course it's real. I am pretty and even if a silly boy doesn't like me, I shouldn't let it get me down. This poem is foolish, as I once was on the topic. But now, I know, I just have to wait.