This is Declaration of Annulment of Ronaldsf from The David Chronicles.

You must read this poem coz it is hilarious. More than that, it best describes my ODD.

Thank you, Sandy, for tipping me about this funny poem.

Seriously, you’ve gotta read this.

I hate you, David Archuleta,
For this affliction you’ve given me.
I’d rather have swine flu or salmonella
Than suffer from this ODD.

I used to have a life, you see,
But when I saw you on TV
Flirting with some melody,
I knew that was the end of me.

I had no choice—your lack of guile,
Your soulful voice and gleaming smile
Had me transfixed. Who is this kid?
And that’s when ODD done me did.

What started off mild, grew into obsession.
Stayed up late for vote-dialing sessions,
Screamed at my friends whose taste I questioned,
And after you lost, sank into depression.

And no, I’m not just being dramatic,
I was an honest-to-goodness fanatic.
And I shall prove this with a story
Of ODD in all its glory:

One night I had homework, but I didn’t care—
I got your tweet that you cut your hair—
And so I checked every fansite I knew
And refused to sleep till I saw your new ‘do.

Now wasn’t that stupid? And then online
I found a poll. Though I didn’t have time,
I voted like mad and lost track of the clock
‘Cause heck no you’re not gonna lose to the frikkin New Kids on the Block.

Had to think about work and graduation
But it’s feast or famine, no moderation.
It got so bad I lost concentration
And had to rely on medication.

And then my social life came to an end,
It was all about Youtube and none of my friends.
So I had to step back and take a hiatus.
(It just wasn’t working, this thing between the two of us.)

So I hunkered down, got on with my life,
Boycotted your fan sites—well, just not quite—
Still snuck a sneak peek every now and then…
Then I saw your tour was going to end.

Well, missing your concert was out of the question,
So I booked a flight against my friend’s suggestion.
On my way to Salt Lake, I grew more and more pensive—
This love affair was getting expensive.

I entered the venue, found my seat,
Stepped out to get something yummy to eat,
Came back and sat down, told my neighbor to hush.
You started to sing, and Oh My Gosh!

As you got in the music and found your groove,
Your body knew just how to move.
Now who would’ve guessed that, in this venue,
Honduran salsa would be on the menu?

Your voice boomed strong, you ruled the stage
With a command that belied your age.
And on top of that: all the while,
You surprised us with new musical styles.

Bluesy runs, techno hooks,
Shoulder pumps and burning looks.
And though this affair with your fans you deny
Your movements spoke louder—and your thighs don’t lie.

I said to myself, now how could this be?
Then suddenly you were looking straight at me.
You smiled so slyly, I wailed your name,
You turned away. You have no shame.

My neighbors and I were twitterpated,
Our burning hunger satiated.
Alas, though I thought my obsession would end—
What once was famine, now’s feast again.

Again I could only think of you:
What happened to the guy I thought I knew?
If now my ODD was already severe,
What would you do to me in a couple of years?

Diana Ross once said that if
There were a cure she’d have none of it,
And Aretha’s “Dr. Feelgood” made addiction sound sane.
Then I listened to “Think” and used my brain.

Now I refuse to be sucked in by your suction
And this new, improved line of Archuseduction^©,
For I am wise—and these are eyes
You won’t hypnotize or mesmerize.

I know your type, you’re a massive flirt.
Or perhaps more accurately, “scum of the earth,”
So stop singing me ballads, it’s not gonna work.
There’s somebody out there, and he’s a jerk.

And after our period of separation,
I’ve finally come to the realization
To say: I’ve had the chance to mull…
I hereby declare this marriage annulled.

So David, would you please just go away?
Got so many things I must do today.
No longer do I think that you are sacred,
For now I loathe you with oceans of hatred
For toying with my heart (refer to above),
So please just stop in the name of love. Capiche?

You say you’re sorry? That you understand?
You float above me saying “Touch my hand”?
Won’t work this time, hun. “No,” I say,
As I flit my eyes and look away.

- ronaldsf