I don't give a fudge

What is this infactuation called love?

The sticky substace that stays on your heart

It burns like an acid

And stings your flesh

But it feels...good

The sort of headaces that keep you up at night

That gives the instinct fight or flight

And if we study it 

And analyze with chemical equations

We will never quite find the words to describe it 

But only to feel 

What it's like to have a hammer pound through your chest

And grip your heart

For tears you shed for this other being

Which may not even be aware of your existance

But so what!?

You live in the fantasy that your prince charming will come 

But nothing ever happens 

Nothing ever does

So why worry about such a childish thing now,

This new trend has seemed to fade into oblivion

Scratch it out of history text books 

So you don't make that same mistake

The one you made on valintine's day 

But please do spill your heart out

Confessions and accusations 

Will give you a grudge 

And if you can't find that special someone 

Then don't worry my dear no one ever truly does

But anyways, who even gives a fudge?

This poem is about: 
Our world

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