Oh Cupid
What are you waiting for?
There's your target.
Your arrow, I see it's glint in the fog.
They're whispering.
It's all set, you've chosen your direction.
I'll wait.
I'm already starting to crack and my fingers are tangled in the thread.
A needle in my hand I'll do this one loop and...
I've been hit with the arrow.
This poem is about:
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: