What is Wrong?

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What is Wrong

What is wrong?
What is wrong with me?
I’m not that bad looking,
I’m really nice and funny.
Everyone says I’m entertaining,
But no one thinks I’m cool,
Well, that’s fine with me, I’d rather be the first anyway,
But then why does everybody treat me as a fool?
I’ll admit I’m strange and a little…okay, really weird,
I try to be friendly though an introvert,
Seems like when I walk into the room, I am the one everyone fears.
I’m not the smartest, though I strive for the best,
I keep a hectic schedule, I rarely do find rest.
I have friends that are the same way,
Many are even smarter than I,
When it comes time for groups of talking and having fun,
I am often left out, but why?
What is wrong with me?
What have I done?
I know I can be entertaining,
It can’t be that I’m not fun.
I am messy and unorganized,
My handwriting looks like chicken scratch.
I can write backwards, I like writing a lot,
Hey, I’m a thousand-in-one, but there is one catch.
I feel alone.
I like to work by myself,
Just because I am usually chosen last.
And seeing how my last name starts with a ‘Z’,
Calling role never goes by fast.
I like playing my trumpet,
Though many claim I am horrible,
I practice at home! That’s more than most,
But they still say my playing is awful.
I draw cartoons and comics,
They have big noses, and disproportionate bodies.
When I show them to people,
That’s one thing they’ll laugh at without it being solely me.
My ears are too small for my face,
My nose looks too big for my head.
My lips and eyes are tiny,
I have a long turtle neck.
My hair is scarily thick,
I can’t style it up or down,
I try to look confident though,
But it turns into a frown.
I bruise easily,
I make weird noises on my demand,
I bite my nails constantly,
On both hands.
I don’t like to carry a purse,
I can’t put make-up on very well,
I’m not fond of dresses or skirts,
I think a tee, sneakers and jeans look pretty swell.
I can type fast, I can write fast,
But no one can read a word of that,
I love chocolate and ice cream so much,
I’m surprised that hasn’t made me fat.
I just lost my last baby tooth not too long ago, at age 17,
I’m one of the oldest in my grade,
I seem to live a sheltered life,
I have no idea about styles in different decades.
I love music, but can’t match up songs and bands,
I’ll be lucky if I have heard of a certain song,
I guess and guess,
And people laugh because I am so wrong.
I am sarcastic and extremely ticklish,
I flinch like crazy,
Try either and I’ll shriek, buzz, drop to the floor, or clap,
I practically spazz out and go almost ballistic.
I like to spell long, weird words as fast as I can,
I slept on the floor every night for at least five years.
I have hiccupped so far every day for the past 45 weeks,
Why do I count? I don’t know, because I’m weird.
I still sleep with stuffed animals,
I still have my childhood favorite, as well as my blanket.
I used to jump out of my crib all the time,
Even as a baby, I acted a little psychotic.
I love to sing when there’s no one around,
Though I know I am not very good.
I behave all the time,
Like a goody-girl knows she should.
I love to read,
When I can find the time,
I write stories and poems,
Mostly about love, all in some sort of rhyme.
I like making things out of duct-tape,
I like making things out of whatever I can find,
I like squeezing into clothes way too small for me,
Just to see what I can do with them, mom doesn’t think that’s fine.
I collect everything I can,
Because you never know when you might need something,
My room is thus a disaster,
I absolutely despise any form of cleaning.
I don’t like the color pink and I never have,
I don’t like shopping, it take way too much time and money.
I’m not like most other girls, I never have celebrity crushes,
I’d rather play games on the PlayStation or the Wii.
I own about 15 pairs of shoes,
¾ are high heel,
Though it’s rare to see me walk in them,
Amazingly I never take a spill.
I trip more in my own tennis shoes,
Up and down the stairs,
Clumsy, me?
Yes, I strongly fear.
I don’t like dressing up,
Yet I have a couple formal gowns.
I like to wiggle my ears,
I constantly make weird sounds.
What is wrong?
What is wrong with me?
Is there anything unusual,
Anything at all that you can see?





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

enkrbffs said...
Jun. 2, 2011 at 10:27 am
I kind of like this poem. lol and im kind of weird too. except.. I dont have high heels cuz im a guy lol
 
SareyZ replied...
Jun. 2, 2011 at 4:38 pm
Haha, yay weird people!!!
And, thanks!
 
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