I wish I weren't smart enough to write this,
For I must meet cliff-high expectations.
I wish I weren't sad enough to write this;
Melancholy wracks my brain's foundations.
I wish I were to busy to write this,
But friends are rare, like smiles in a storm.
If only this poem did not exist,
My thoughts wouldn't take such despondent form.
I wish I had a chance at meeting girls,
Though my sexuality disagrees.
I wish my face were attractive, like pearls.
Instead, scattered on my face is acne.
Dear World, I can no longer love my life.
Is living worth this trouble or this strife?