As a high school teacher, I have seen my fair share of bad poetry. Actually, taking into account the Geneva Convention, I've seen MORE than my fair share of bad poetry.
One student in particular fancies himself a bit of a victim of unrequited love and feels the need to pen his woes and share it with the rest of us uncaring philistines. His problem is that he's never loved in return by any of the dozens of girls he falls in love with each week. To say he's theatrical would be an understatement. All he's missing are the tights and the layer of grease paint.
Being the sucker that I am, I'm always willing to read his shite for the sake of his self-confidence, and I do my best not to laugh out loud at some of it. I've had to remind him, more than once that I have absolutely no interest in reading about his obviously unfulfilled sexual fantasies, as he tries to get a little Andrew Marvell once in a while., but one of my favorite lines was this beauty:
"I knew it from the start
You grabbed the joystick of my heart."
I guess I should be grateful he didn't just have her grabbing his joystick. The funny part was that line was his refrain so I had to read it more than once.