The -dy poem

It really is a tragedy
that for the fourth time already
I fell in love with somebody
who doesn’t think I’m a lady
worthy of love, but a cruddy
or at least a weirdo spoddy.
Yet they’re wrong ’cause though I’m nerdy,
to love them much I was ready.
And maybe I AM a noddy
for falling for guys so shoddy.
Like the last time when unheedy,
invigorated with heady
wine, I danced with you, quite giddy.
Seems, that night I came you handy.
I chose to go with the eddy
of my feels; thought they’d be faddy;
didn’t guess I’d be so needy
of a relationship steady;
for more of your love so greedy.
I opened you my heart nuddy.
But turns out you’re a love-scaredy
and my care angered you ruddy,
leaving my hopes all raggedy
and my poor heart so sick bloody
that I may not get it tidy
soon as there’s no sure remedy
for broken-hearted malady
when one is loved by nobody.