Shoot him dead!

He’s fat and old that cupid.
Perfectly rhymes with stupid.
Why else would I be,
In love with so many,
Gorgeous wrong men?

I’d be dripping in diamonds,
Drinking loch lomond,
Sampling exotic cuisine,
In a luxury limousine!
Had his aim been right.

I’m teary eyed instead,
Over Bill and Ted,
Both still tied, poor things,
To their mums' apron strings.
What a waste!

I’m sighing nights over,
For the married lover.
To come by, to make time
And stop this silly rhyme,
With his kiss.

As for the computer whiz,
Was no good at this love biz,
Needed an http slash slash
So he wouldn’t make a hash,
Of simple loving.

The poet was my fault entire,
Tho his words I did admire,
His demeanor and clothing,
Was made for loathing!
Which I did.

So tie him up this valentine,
This cupid’s no friend of mine!
Teddy bears, roses make me sick,
Stab him slowly with an ice pick,
Or just shoot him.