Young Writers Society

I'm angry with you, angry as hell
I sort of wonder if you can even tell
One minute you were up so high, but oh, how you fell
So you might still have delusions
That you're so top ranked in my heart
But I am going through unbelievable excursions
Trying to kick you out
Because all my mind keeps babbling about is your stupid name
Even though my heart knows that YOU are to blame
And all I see when I close my eyes is your idiotic smile
Even though my heart scoffs about your "unique" style
And when I cry, and this is the worst,
My heart sort of admits that you were here first
Before any pain or anger or fury
Before we were in such a god damn hurry
And I don’t know why, but that’s what hurts most
That no matter how much my heart brags and boasts
I can’t stop thinking about your eyelashes, smile, your unruly strands of hair
The small gestures that show me you care,
Not only for me, but for everyone
And you have this thing, that when you look into the distance,
You shine like the sun
And you can never seem to see that, just how bright you are
And your beautiful eyes can see so far
But no, no, no, it all hurts so bad
You aren’t perfect – you make me so mad
You don’t phone, and you have nearly identical smiles
And girls are just stacked there in front of you, almost in piles
I had no idea when I first saw you, the two of us just clicked
We had to choose, and we picked
I chose you and you chose me
And we both just knew, it’s sort of meant to be, you see
But… you know… when you don’t phone, you apologize straight away
So many times that you make me smile and say that it’s okay
It’s all about the curves of your mouth; I can tell your smiles apart,
How could I not? They’re so well-etched into my heart
And about those girls, I know they’re lining up all on their own;
When you speak with them you put on your polite tone
I think I’m getting upset with myself because I think of you so much
My heart and my mind complicate things just a touch
And I keep thinking, what good are your sorrys if you still never call
And what good are your smiles if they aren’t directed at me at all,
And you never tell those girls to go away;
You just let them go ahead and fall
And I’m afraid I might fall
Your arms are very strong, I know that quite well
But if you will catch me, I just can’t seem to tell
So I don’t know if I should be upset, or excited or sad…
Instead, I think I choose to be mad
So I’m angry with you, if you can’t already tell
I’m angry with you – angry as hell.

Spoiler! :

I read a poetry excersize today that got me thinking. It reminded me that a writer must first and foremost write with their heart, and what came out might even be a very simple poem, but I like it a lot. Please help me with it thank you very much!