happiness is not a cold squirt gun

in 6th grade, I was a shy and awkward youth
that was smitten with the smartest girl in my class
she had a lovely smile and sandy blonde hair and freckles
and was without doubt a very cute little lass

all I knew to do was to taunt and tease
so, I would pull on her pretty hair
in an epic fail attempt to demonstrate
to the poor young girl that I cared

or I would knock over her pencil can
sending her pencils crashing onto the school floor
just to get a reaction and a moment of her attention
as if all is really fair, after all, in love and war

and one dark day at the school carnival
I shot her in the face with water from a squirt gun
so sadly, I don’t expect that she thinks very well of me today
or that the time she spent with me was very much fun

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