[Editor's note: this poem is from Teen Angst: A Collection of REALLY BAD Poetry, edited by Sara Bynoe. Send your own poems in to The Tyee's Teen Angst Poetry Contest.]

The year was 1990, he was a camp counselor named Tod Omotani, and I was fifteen years old. One look at the guy and I was hooked - his undercut hair matching my own, I felt that he was my destiny. I ran back to my tent, whipped up the poem, and set it to music; what better than teen angst but teen angst brought to life with the Holy Trinity of Rock chords A, C and G?

It could be attributed to the fact that it was a church camp, or perhaps that I was (back of the hand to forehead style) dramatic, but upon completing said poem I experienced a religious epiphany: Tod had to hear this song, he had to hear it from my mouth, and he had to hear it tonight. So there I was, set up with my guitar under his bedroom window, singing my heart out quietly, albeit intensely. It was like a Romeo and Juliet role reversal, and I felt so proud to be a pioneer for teenage girls everywhere with bleeding hearts.

While this singing was going on, I felt certain, in my black-clad-nose-pierced heart that Tod was just inside the window, falling madly in love with the mysterious musician who was generating such intoxicating music, and would, surely, come outside to take me in his arms and blah blah blah.

It turns out, he wasn't in his room at all.

On the upside, his roommate couldn't get to sleep thanks to my enchanting voice. If Tod wasn't able to hear it, at least I could ensure that someone else was as unhappy as I.

At times, you feel as though you're flying

And in the end you know you'll end up crying

But you know that I am here for you

I'll give you love to get you through

I'll give you love to get you through

And so you won't end up denying

The love we have and have always had

I'll see you through the good and bad

But leave me now and I'll be forever dying

Forever dying

Forever dying