Rushing hormones.
Reckless audacity.
If you dare to ask me to prom,
I dare to promise a devotion of loyalty,
for about, um, two weeks,
--You are my teenage dream.

Adolescent confidence,
unreasonable bravity.
Stress myself out for not knowing to answer yes or no.
Freak myself out when the girl you asked turned out not to be me.
I like you to an extend of hatred.
--You are my teenage dream.

Reading a novel, you are the savior of world.
Watching a Disney film, you are the Prince Charming.
I like messed-up pun lines when you try to cheer me up in my down days.
I like your perspicuous urge to be protective.
I like you for liking me.
--You are my teenage dream.

But you have acnes, pimples, and all that.
But you have your temper, impatience, and irrationality.
Can’t believe my OCD didn’t repel you out of my system.
Can’t believe I still like you, maybe.
Here’s your vocab for the day: limerence, the state of being obsessed with another being
--You are my teenage dream