Okay. Do you people not realize that I feel nothing but love for you? How the hell am I supposed to know what is going on in your lives if you don't tell me? How the fuck am I supposed to change the shit I say or the way I act around you if you don't tell me what I'm doing wrong? I don't get it. I just don't fucking get it.

I, as a clerihew,
Tend to be merry; too
Merry, it might, perhaps, by some, be claimed;
But I'm sure that these people are wrong, and need to be grievously maimed. What Poetry Form Are You?

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