• THE ITCH
    Laughing and joking, just hanging out,
    Content and happy, without a doubt.

    Then it comes, like a Great White shark,
    In the water, from the depths of thedark.

    Between your toes, or on your face,
    On your back, in a remote place.

    In itch has come, and what can you do?,
    But itch it and itch it, until it turns blue.

    But what happens when, your itch starts to bleed?,
    But it keeps coming back, like a stubborn old weed.

    You try not to itch it, but still it remains,
    Driving you mad, to tear out your brains.

    Medication comes next, crèmes and such,
    Doing nothing to help it, or not very much.

    You start to go crazy, your skin red as hell,
    But nothing can save you, nothing at all!

    And Finally, Finally! Words can’t ignore,
    Your head, OH YOUR HEAD! can’t take anymore!

    You laugh as you itch, itching through skin,
    blood spewing out as you wear a gay grin.

    Then all goes dark, as you black out in the room,
    your finally done, this is your stone tomb.

    But they find you there, itching your stump,
    Blood spouting out, like a rusty water pump.

    So they take you to a room, with walls fluffy white,
    And just for an instant, you think things are right.

    Everyone’s freindly, the beds are quite nice,
    The food isn’t bad, with just the right spice.

    But then it comes again, completely out of reach!
    You give a scream, and squirm like a leech.