Hypochondriac Poem by Mark R Slaughter

Ugh - I seem to have an itchy chin.
Oh my god - what's on my skin?
A blemish - wasn't there the other day -
That's it, I'm dead - I'm off to pray!

It's got to be a melanoma -
Even worse, an adenoma!
I'm gonna fall into a coma,
While wasted by a carcinoma!

I'll get my mirror and my book
So I can take a closer look.
Oh - what's that spot inside my ear?
Now what the heck's that doing there?

I never saw it yesterday -
And now I think I'm turning grey!
Must be from these horrid shocks -
That spot could be the bloody pox!

Or even worse - bubonic plague!
No wonder I'm a little vague.
But then again, I'm rather shaken.
I'll check my book - could be mistaken.

Oops, I've made the book slam shut.
Oh my god - a paper cut!
I'll bleed to death - I know I shall!
Well that's my lot; it's so-long pal.

That cut could get a vile infection -
So then I'll need a big injection:
A mighty dose of methicillin.
But I could have that little villain:

You know the one - mrsa,
Which means my blood will just decay,
Despite the drugs they'll pump me with -
So there you are - and now forthwith

I'll slip into a painful death,
Struggling for my final breath!
Best wash my face before I go -
I should look clean from head to toe.

Hey - the blotches on my face and ear -
They've disappeared - my skin is clear!
Of course - yesterday I stained my fence.
That's all it was - I have no sense!

Silly me, a little splash…
Oh my god - is that a rash?


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009