No More Self-Pity Poems!

How many poems can you wish
That you just could hold his glove?
How many ways you pity yourself
Yet throw away all of your love.

Whining about what he doesn't know
Moaning rubish unrequited.
Don't bother me with your failures
When you are so short sighted.

You want him to know, tell him,
Don't stalk around his mailbox!
If he saw you slinking in the shadows
He'd be right to throw some rocks.

Act & be done with it, or go away,
Don't tire me with girly spasm;
What you call love is really drama,
Not even good enough for passion.