Love's Worst Marksman

Cupid, Cupid, with your chubby little grin,
You think you're so clever, a trickster, causing romantic din.
Your aim is so terrible, it's a cosmic disgrace,
Matching socks is harder than the 'love' you chase.

With those flimsy wings, all tattered and frail,
You flutter about like a lost pigeon, bound to fail.
Arrows dipped in forced affection, what a sorry scheme,
You're not a love guru, just a cheesy, fading dream.

Remember Sarah and Tim? You swore it was fate,
Turns out, they bonded over mutual burrito hate.
And poor lonely Jane, pierced with your dart of desire,
Now hopelessly pining for the pizza delivery guy – what a fire!

You whisper sweet nothings, promises so bold,
But love built on your schemes soon turns frosty and cold.
A soulmate a day – is that your marketing pitch?
Too much fast-food romance makes the heart twitch.

You paint rosy pictures of sunsets and strolls,
But forget to mention the arguments, the awkward tolls.
Those matching tattoos? A future disaster guaranteed,
Hearts broken more swiftly than your arrows take speed.

Love isn't a target, a bullseye to score,
It's a slow-burning flame, something to adore.
It grows with shared laughter, with tears gently dried,
Not with rushed declarations and wounded pride.

So Cupid, please retire, take a long, needed rest,
Your matchmaking antics? They're simply not the best.
Let hearts wander freely, let connections spark true,
Leave the Hallmark aisle, and stop painting love so blue.

We'll find our own way, through kindness and smiles,
Not through chubby cherubs and their childish wiles.
Love's a wild adventure, it shouldn't make us weep,
So take a hike, Cupid, your services we won't keep.

LINE COUNT : 32 Lines
WRITTEN FOR: "The Bard's Hall Contest" 
PROMPT: Must slam that beastly little arrow-flinger, CUPID!