Oh my God. Freakin' awesome. I'm in the Drake and Josh section.
Cookie to whoever can guess the pairing in the poem. It's blatantly obvious, though.
Recognition
They're not like us, you know
No one is like us
Not even Nichols or Crenshaw.
They'll never understand.
They have other people besides each other.
We only have us.
And I don't care if I just want you.
I don't care about every pretty popular girl in school.
I don't care about how I felt about Crenshaw.
She was a witch, anyway.
A demon in sheep's clothing.
But you can be my angel.
Well, I don't care about a lot of things anymore.
I didn't care about our mistake at the wedding
As long as you don't hate me for it.
I don't care what rabbi thinks.
I'd rather be a soulless, godless atheist
If having religion meant giving you up.
Here's another thing I don't care about.
My family
I used to hate them to death until I saw what yours did
Because of you and me
I saw what they did and I will never forget it
Anyone who hurts you is my enemy
Although…
Now I don't care about who you love
Unless you love me, of course.
I don't care how selfish I am for doing it.
Because love is a selfish, sick, twisted, cutthroat emotion
I don't care what Nichols says
His advice was stupid and almost got you killed
I don't care about Parker
He's a waste of space
Crenshaw can go to hell
I'm sick of their pity already.
I'm sick of them all.
And frankly I was disgusted with you.
Who writes songs about you in the early hours?
Who doesn't leave your bedside when you're sick?
Who dries your tears every time something goes wrong?
But for two seconds it didn't matter.
I couldn't hold your attention.
I no longer had your recognition.
All I wanted was for someone to love me.
Someone to recognize me.
Someone to appreciate me.
I never got it from my parents.
But I always got it from you.
I always got it from you
And you took it away.
And the moment you sat at that table with that girl
I knew I was being used
I hated it.
I hated you.
But I don't want to.
Because it's my fault anyway.
Guess what?
You know how I've been wearing sweaters
Even though it's the middle of June and we're in California?
I wear them because I cut myself just to watch it bleed
I know you notice
But you don't care.
You won't recognize the effort that I put in
For you to notice me
Call it twisted.
Call it sick.
Call it what you will.
Like I said
Love is a sick, twisted, selfish, cutthroat emotion.
And I fell in love with you.
Fin
Like I said, it's BLATANTLY obvious who this is about.
Icing for whoever can guess the pairing AND who's point of view it's in.
