I see a boy.
Sitting across from me.
I look over.
Hes stareing at me.
I blush and look away.
But i can't help to look up again.
Hes looking down now.
I feel bad.
But i don't know him.
Why do i feel this way.
We get out of class.
I feel like i'm being watched.
I look around.
Everyone is stareing at me.
I look down and i see the same boy under me O.O
I'm wereing a skirt.
I'm thinking what the fuck is he doing...
Now i can tell mystery boys can be perverts and assholes.
I know now that i will never fall for a mystery boy again.
Mystory boy
Did you like this poem? Write one of your own!
