The Perfect Girl Poem by Paula Lubbe

I may be skinny
I may be pretty
I may be the fairest in the city

I may be decent
With a sense of humor
All of these things, they counted before

But I'm not the perfect girl
Stilettos, short skirts, torn pantyhose
I'm not that sleaze; you can't bring me to my knees
Not so easily

No underwear and their bleached blonde hair
The make-up to hide the face they bare
No morals, no conscience, no self-respect
And what ever they want, the guys will get

The more attention they need, all the better
He would know, he'd score even before he met her
This is the supposed perfect girl, it's all guys need

And I'm not the perfect girl
I don't crave attention; I'm not that weak,
Nor am I desperate, nor am I easy,
I'm not the tart that you seek

I'll wait my turn, until you're more mature
Those perfect girls will end up used and alone
I'll wait for the day that you finally see
She's not the perfect girl, and will never be