If ever there is something that,
makes me really happy,
My stupid head, it works non-stop
at making it seem crappy.
A pile a gold, or treasure chest,
Is cumbersome and heavy.
The last remaining unicorn,
draws all too thick a bevy.
A lover's kiss, from soft warm lips,
is a trap for sick bacteria,
You're memories are silly, when
held in old ephemera.
The opportunities you've long desired
have lost their magic luster,
And worst of all, it will take,
all the effort you can muster.
But what can I do, try to change?
My brain is a big part of me,
I'll look for less dramatic changes though,
than a full-frontal lobotomy...