I can’t get a man,

I have a short temper,

What is wrong with me.


I worried about living on my own,

Though others want to be free and solo.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get married.

What’s wrong with me.


I have an autistic disorder,

Which means I stutter when I try to talk to anyone.

I hope that someone, anyone, will show me some compassion.

And accept me for who I am.


I hope that my perfect man will look past my rough and plump exterior,

And love me for what’s on the inside.

I don’t know if I could ever witness a miracle like this.

What is wrong with me?


When someone dies, I am not very empathetic.

Maybe it’s because I haven’t known them very closely.

Every thing I do and every step I take is another worldly mistake.

What is wrong with me?


I hope I have a wedding.

I hope I marry the man of my dreams.

I hope he’ll say there’s nothing wrong with me.

And I hope his love will be unconditional.


I don’t know what surprises my life holds in store.

So I’ll keep asking myself day after day,

“What is wrong with me?”