Stupid Cupid Poem by Alexander Foald

Around twelve o’clock p.m
It seems the night’s getting late
The wind blows into my head
Keeping me from going insane

I’m waiting under your window
As I catch the light in your room
Hoping that you might still awake
Maybe we can spend some time in a while

I climb up the tree beside your house
Trying not to wake up the dogs
Still I’m only thinking about you
Even when I slip my feet over the fence

I’m falling down onto the bushes
That sounds hurt, but the real sound is a bomb
It even wakes all the street’s neighbors
While I’m already on my way home

My feet keep running away for good
While my head still think about you
My heart beats like a chanting priest
Now that I want you more than this