By Anonymous

It grew on me like E.Coli,
Me being the room temperature meat,
It fed and filled like a fly,
And on my flesh it would excrete.
The anaerobic bacteria – putrefaction,
The aerobic bacteria – fat decomposition,
The mould gave me whiskers like a cat,
Yeast caused disgusting discolouration.

No one would dare touch,
Such an infected piece of food,
I shall do nothing but rot,
From my hopes I have eschewed.
I could be cut and cut plenty of times,
Yet this disease remains to stay,
For this just refuses to leave,
Until I too shall go away.

You Might Also Like:

Browse By Category

Select from our entire catalogue of poetry collections:
Click the dropdown below to select from our entire catalogue of poetry collections.