They say to stop choosing for looks; go with brains,
But which part? Do I pick politics or religion?
Should she inspire me to do fun things or duties?
There's a maximum one way just one person can suit me.
It seems my life came with a salary cap,
Which once seemed like a trap, or even a slap,
Like my ex dating a slacker who plays guitar and sings,
(I guess unemployed musicians are her newest 'thing'.)
Or the crush who said literate guys make her purr,
Who's engaged now, to somebody dumber than her,
But what once raised a burn doesn't now raise concern.
It took too many times touching stovetops to learn
Not to be overwhelmed by what I hear or see,
Because I am the one perfect person for me.
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