By rights I shouldn’t stand a chance,
‘Cos I can’t sing and I can’t dance!
I can’t create, I can’t converse,
I’m worst in all the Universe!
I’ve got no style, my haircut’s weird,
I’ve got this shitty, spotty beard,
My feet are strange, my hands are too,
I hate myself and so should you!
My joints all creak, my eyes are sore,
With every cold I’m at death’s door,
I’m always far too tired for fun
In spite of being just twenty-one;
My sexism is thinly veiled,
Yet liberal smugness has prevailed;
I’ve never read a proper book,
I hate fast food but I can’t cook,
On top of which I’m unhygienic,
Girt with tiny little penis,
And, as I have just displayed
My rhymes, too, have seen better days.
***
And so, it takes me by surprise
When, in those sympathetic eyes
I sense, in spite of all above
That she has found a way to love;
And suddenly I see reflected
Not the angry, tense, dejected
Scum that was, for I am healing,
Justified by lover’s feeling.
Our eyes adjust, and realign
And now she looks deep into mine,
But what she sees will just upset her;
I reckon that I could do better.