To her, Nona, I may finally speak.
Her nose ring glistens like Midas' gold.
She's a song only lips of angels old.
Her eyes, jewels even Heave would seek.
Yet to me, she would not give 'nother peek.
Cooler than me, one may call her ice cold.
Bad boys she loves, the ones most tough and bold.
Compared to her love interests, I'm meek.
If you were me, you'd be screamin', "Shoot me!"
Like a bad movie, through me she is lookin'.
My heart, crumpled, garbage, I feel a knave.
Oh mullets! Trans-Ams! That's all she sees!
Her turntable eyes are, my heart, grinding.
She'll not know I'm the best she'll never have.
Adaptation of "Girl All the Bad Guys Want"--Bowling for Soup