by Jeffrey Parren
The only girls that flirt with me
are the ones
and I'm somehow supposed to save the day
even after they try to tear me down,
first by ripping off my leaves
with self-deprecating insults
really aimed at themselves,
then my branches as I don't reciprocate the hate,
until finally going for my roots,
like my dead mother has anything to do
with their problems showing affection
or being able to talk to their parents.
Your ignorance of irony is unflattering,
and it's offensive.
Sometimes, I wish I was a bad guy,
then it would all make sense.
Posted on 12/28/2015
Copyright © 2021 Jeffrey Parren