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Oct 2014
It's time again for your inspection,
Time to make some minor corrections;
Squeezing out each new infection
Eliminating imperfections.

It's not cathartic -it's not bold
To just sit back and lose your hold
and let this lunacy unfold
unendorsed but uncontrolled

And YES! You really had a go;
the flakes of flesh did fall like snow,
ten jagged daggers, dripping, soak
In a red and ragged afterglow.

And then just when you think you know
it's over and you've stemmed the flow
a tiny tumour starts to grow
and it's time again to face your foe.

So the bell tolls and the round begins,
this time it's not about who wins
the wide mouthed open sore still grins
forgiving you for all your sins.

And when you stopped your childish games
the mirror did burst into flames
and burned, and now that remains
are tatters, ashes and bloodstains.
I suffer from eczema. It's pretty bad. Not the most dramatic or **** of conditions, but it can be the bane on my life. In this poem I try and go some way to describe the internal battle between the corporeal desire to scratch and the conscious part of me that knows I'll regret it later.
Janek Kentigern
Written by
Janek Kentigern  Manchester
(Manchester)   
1.1k
 
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