Thank you for reading this. The question I want to ask you is: how old do you think I was when I wrote this? I want honest answers only.
There is a boy next door,
Who is rotten to the core.
He loves to fight
Every day and night.
He always wears this face
Whenever he’s near my space.
Oh, how he makes me want to hurl
And the way he makes my hair to curl!
But don’t get me wrong;
I’ve tried to get along.
My heart’s not too small,
Hey, he’s the one who started this all.
He would never frown
When I would fall down.
And oh, he just loves to sneer,
Or at least do a cheer.
Oh, how I would love to hit his head
And make him cry instead!
Well now I’m plotting to dye his hair,
So by any chance you’re that boy; beware!
There is a boy next door,
Who is rotten to the core.
He loves to fight
Every day and night.
He always wears this face
Whenever he’s near my space.
Oh, how he makes me want to hurl
And the way he makes my hair to curl!
But don’t get me wrong;
I’ve tried to get along.
My heart’s not too small,
Hey, he’s the one who started this all.
He would never frown
When I would fall down.
And oh, he just loves to sneer,
Or at least do a cheer.
Oh, how I would love to hit his head
And make him cry instead!
Well now I’m plotting to dye his hair,
So by any chance you’re that boy; beware!