I wish to God that I could be
Like Peter Perfect in 9C;
He’s loved by all,
Nobody loves me.
He’s captain of cricket and rugby, too;
He scores more points than me or you.
When it comes to sport,
I haven’t a clue.
In English and Maths he’s top of his set,
The brightest thing you’ve ever met.
He’s a genius,
While I am wet.
His art work’s won him high renown,
He had an exhibition displayed in town.
With a paintbrush
I’m the class clown.
He’s never had a spot on his face.
His hair is never out of place.
He’s always smart,
I’m a disgrace.
The girls go weak when he’s in sight.
He dates a different one each night.
I try so hard,
But do nothing right.
I wish to God that I could be
Like Peter Perfect in 9C.
To be loved by all
... and not be me.
© Ray Mather 2006
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem