There are thirteen things
She hates about her life
She isn't good with people
She's never been a wife
She has a few more curves than all
The girls in magazines
But then again, who doesn't?
They all kind of look like beans
She doesn't like her GPA
Or her major at her school
She doesn't keep up with the hipsters
And thinks she isn't cool
She wakes too late each morning
She drinks too much caffeine
She has a patch of freckles on her nose
And her eyes are one blue, one green
She keeps a messed up journal
Where she writes her wicked thoughts
She doesn't exercise enough
Although she knows she ought
Then there's last, but never least
That to others she can't impart
The thing she hates the very most
Is her cold, dark, broken heart