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.