(This is a fictional poem)

I regretted trying to pick up a woman who was drinking coffee.
I used a line on her and she threw it at me.
It went in my face and on my shirt.
It was scalding hot and it really did hurt.
I made certain that the next lady I tried to pick up didn't have any coffee to throw in my face.
She didn't have coffee but she did have mace.
The next lady I tried to pick up turned out to be married.
I couldn't walk after her husband broke my legs so I had to be carried.
Trying to pick up women is something that I've come to regret.
Now I talk to women online because they can't throw coffee on the internet.