Damn you b3tards I'd rather bury this crappy 'poetry' in the pit of repressed memories...
What I could say to you

I could say you’re the whitest of the snow,
Your skin basking in heaven’s glow,
But all I’ll say, truth be told,
I think snow is just plain fucking cold.
I could chant the splendour of your eyes,
With the moon they are like pizza pies,
However truth would proclaim that,
Too many pies, makes the body fat.
I could compare your beauty to the rain,
I’d scream to your sparkling beauty in vain,
The truth would find me in the street,
With puddles chilling my feet.
For you I could blather all night and day,
But in the end I have nothing true to say,
Nothing is truth, carrying no weight at all,
It’s words with weight, that make honey of gall.
--A pretentious 15 year old
(Fartmonger, Sat 13 Aug 2005, 17:42, Reply)