Are Feelings Real?
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Across the room he sees her reading text
Until she looks at him with coffee eyes
And stares at him like walls where sit the flies.
Surprises him with what she would do next
She could not know on him what were effects:
The flutter of his heart to realize
Her voice like hundred quiet butterflies
Shyly he asks, with him eat some Tex-Mex?
How cute, she is, like an oversized elf.
Attracted, he admits, since they first met.
But yet he cannot help but ask himself:Uncertain is the mind of his target?
Though in his arms she seems to throw herself
A hope he hopes they never will regret.
FFM 2020 30
"Can you play like Squidward???" Sigh. Deep breath. She's six; she doesn't know any better. Squawk! Squeak honk squawk! The kids giggle and laugh while I hold back tears. Look what they made me do to my baby, my prefect reed. "Did you know Squidward isn't actually bad at clarinet?" the resident meme master states. "He sounds bad because he's playing underwater." Deep breaths. It's okay, Squidward isn't - "Who would put a clarinet underwater? You'd ruin the instrument." "It's just a -" "Squidward is bad at clarinet because he has tentacles, no fingers. He's pressing all the buttons at once." "Oh."
Another sonnet about feelsy boy stuff.
Except this time I wrote it from the boy's perspective. Sort of.
And I left out a lot of details about the parallels this has with the situation it's based on.
And now I must go work on a presentation that's due in ten hours.
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