This is the first in a series of creatively fictional pieces, which will be posted every Friday (that's right—even MORE Cecily). This particular piece is a Spenserian sonnet I wrote for my early British lit class. I got a ninety-nine out of one hundred.
It is not about me.
You Are a Jerk
I asked you out last weekend, but I guess
You’ve got some other plans this Friday night.
She’s not as good for you, but I digress;
I know you knew that I’d be free tonight.
For now, it seems you want me out of sight.
You think this dating thing is just a game?
You think that I’m a person you can slight?
I thought that we had fun, but now the shame
Descends on me, and I feel really lame.
I wonder if you think I came too strong
And why you’ve got the hots for what’s-her-name
And have you always liked her all along?
Well, thinking on it, I know what to say:
I never really liked you, anyway.