I don’t ask for much, but then again, maybe I do.

I won’t ask for much, but I think I deserve an ambitious boo.

You say I’m dramatic, and yea, that’s probably a fact.

You say I’m a little crazy, but that’s just an act.

I miss you sometimes, but I feel like I don’t even know you.

I hate you other times; you annoy me like an untied shoe.

Now I’m just being silly; I’m just trying to make up rhymes.

I want to make you laugh, though. Would you mind me taking a picture of all the times you smile?

I don’t know why I keep playing games; I should probably settle down.

I want to have children and bring in little kids with full black hair, maybe brown.

I think I’d be a good father, but I want to make a good husband.

I think that latter is what I have trouble with; I’m just always fussing.

I’m making some changes that I think will be for the better.

I even dropped my social media to get my real life together.

Not sure if that’ll help, but at this point, anything’s worth a try.

I even started thinking about writing letters to everyone before I should die.

Not trying to be depressing; it’s just a fact of life.

I hope it’s not dramatic, like getting stabbed in the back with a knife.

That’s me being silly again; sorry for the drama.

I get so nervous writing my palms are sweaty like a sauna.

I guess saunas aren’t sweaty, but I sure would be.

It’s hard to get my point across when I don’t even get me.

I hope to tell my future kids about the story and fill it up with laughter.

Maybe they’ll understand that nothing is more overrated than a happily ever after.