A Dime A Dozen Poem by emmanuelle sanders

Last year, when I first saw this man
I didn't care much; I'm not his fan.
I'd just continue living my life,
With all those problems, and things alike.

Who is this guy, I'd ask the sophies then.
They'd say, He's one of the most handsome men!
And I'd think, Oh, what a waste of time.
This 'chick'? He's just like any other dime.

For me, their fantasizing is so lame,
But to them, it's a whole new ball game.
It's more than being a student in his class,
More than holding his hand during Mass.

So when the time for a new level to be conquered came,
I tried to avoid everything, even his name.
I wasn't ready yet, don't wanna be like them,
Who thinks leaving him would be a total mayhem.

Who would've thought when I entered this room,
That I would also be suffering what I called doom.
First glimpse of him, my heart went wild,
As if it was as uncontrollable as a child.

Yes, I was like the women back then,
Only younger and worse that them.
I was a formidable foe to my friends,
And a vulnerable loser to my fiends.

I blamed him, cursed him for my wretched life,
And also cursed his unknown soon-to-be wife.
But it's unfair to put all blames on him,
Even if I'm already that grim.

It's also my fault, myself I deceived,
In effect I'd only make myself bleed.
He's gonna be history from this day on,
And will never be the one I reckon.

Now these sophies-turned-juniors would ask me,
Is he still hot like he used to be?
I'd reply, I don't care, for as you see,
He's just a dime a dozen to me.