Monday Mourning Meeting

Looking at you I must declare,
You set my loins a-tremble.
A rounded beauty of rare delight,
The Lord truly did assemble.

Looking at you I must confess,
Your innocent charm moves me.
Your translucent skin and flowing blonde hair,
Laughing and smiling so carefree.

Looking at you I feel myself,
Getting quite weak in the knees.
Your glasses, black hair, and compact form,
Are certainly built to please.

Looking at you I can't decide,
Exactly what you are.
I know you know you're a stunning girl,
But too conceited by far.

Looking at you I clearly see,
You're short and tight and ugly.
But your impish wit and sense of fun,
Definitely do amuse me.

Looking at you I again confirm,
Your toothy buck smile is repulsive.
Your inane laugh and podgy nose,
Make me a depressive compulsive.

Looking at you all I now realise,
We all have distinguishing features.
But at the end of the day, all I can say,
Is that you're just upwardly mobile bitches.

  A depressed look through the glass ceiling!
  Johannesburg, South Africa.