I think that I shall never see
A girl as crazy as a textee.
A textee whose hungry thumb is pressed,
Against the blackberry button about to text.
A girl that looks at her phone all day,
Does not lift her arms away;
A girl that may in summer wear
A twee bow or braid in her hair;
Upon whose bosom no guy has lain;
Who intimately lives in pain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can save a textee.
much love to joyce kilmer. and raven.
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