Stormy PoeticJustice

Stuck-up little rich girl,

who do you think you are?

Looking so damn beautiful,

(I admire you from afar).

 

I long to come and talk to you –

to admit to you my love.

But I know that you look down on me,

(you loath me from above).

 

Is it a matter of money?

Or neighborhood? Or race?

Or can you just not stand

that I am out right in your face?

 

But you don’t even know –

(you wouldn’t have a clue),

that all of my pent-up anger

is because I’m in love with you.