At first there were three
then four…
then seven…
then eleven…
(including my innernose pore)
and finally twenty-seven…
twenty-seven spots!
My life is officially OVER!
No concealer will
cover these
red, bulging
white pus oozing,
purple peaking
mass of
twenty-seven spots.
My life is officially OVER!
Savlon was hopeless,
toothpaste the same.
Plasters pathetic,
listerine in vain.
Nothing could combat
these indestructible
twenty-seven spots.
My life is officially OVER!
These are no
spotty spots.
These are a
Kilimanjaro-sized,
Himalayan-ranged army
of invincible
twenty-seven spots.
My life is officially OVER!
I can’t leave the house.
I can’t go to school.
I can’t ever, ever, ever
be seen in public
EVER again!
Out damn
twenty-seven spots.
My life is officially OVER!
A leopard has less
a cheetah even fewer
than my crop of
twenty-seven…
twenty-four…
twenty-one…
twenty-… what spots?
My life is officially ON!
- Teddy Bear - 26th February 2017
- We’re just being old people - 26th February 2017
- Fit’s fleein aboot far in October? - 26th February 2017
- Twenty-seven spots - 10th May 2016