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?