17 and confused, imagine that!

I really wish I remember who I wrote this poem about, but I don’t. So many years ago! So dramatic!

December 3, 1997

You’re a jerk, I hope you die.
If you do, I won’t cry.
I’ll be strong, I’ll be brave.
I’ll have dances on your grave.
You treat me like a pile of crap.
But I’m the one who needs a slap.
Cuz you are mean, you’ve made me blue.
But through all this, I still love you.