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The Infection Of Affection

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I'm a new kind of weapon. I yield a new type of fatal.

Drop, dead, gorgeous. I'd beware, because I've begun a new species of lethal.

My first beau has taught me well, but those chic grades will cost,

For every time I see an attractive boy all anticipation is lost.

Single, taken, or looking I'll still smile and tempt.

He's passed his curse to me, only spreading my contempt.

A curse could it be that he held? Things elucidate,

He assisted me in perfecting fishing: hook, line, and bait.

Of course, how could I have overlooked it? To me, he's allot his sickness.

A disease of a flawless flirt's game of love, we'll always prevail and nothing less.

Transmitted on to the prude he'd fallen in love with,

The one that got away. Girls surrounding are positive that I am a merely a myth.

Swindled into a immaculate bundle is the experience of wins collected.

Like a hereditary trait, I am infected.





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