BP 1: Scab

Tonight is a night of almost revelations. I have just decided that I’m going to start posting all the bad poems I write here because I know they’ll never get properly published but they’re definitely funny enough to get looked at (because they’re so atrocious). I’m going to kick things off with a poem I wrote back in February. It’s called “Scab” and I think I had a scab at the time, though I can’t be sure.

You are the scab
I can’t bear to pick off.
So while I wait for you
to wither and fall,
I’ll settle for rubbing
the skin surrounding you.


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