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A brothel
struck brother
and blue
rife this
shanty with
boo catchy
slogan these
standing drabs
of ire
in his
bill hop
splendor wouldn't
mend his
heart for
this time
in Oakland
it said
formaldehyde
Head and Shoulders, knees and toes

That's the way the story goes

Here is something no one knows

To lepers...it's important

It's the inventory song

You may think that this is wrong

Put me back where I belong

But, lepers need to do this

Count your digits 'fore you leave

It's a fact you must believe

They're not out for to deceive

They need to inventory

If they count and all is there

They face the world without a care

They lose their parts, but not their hair

Their day will be successful

Head and Shoulders, Knees and toes

That's the way the old song goes

I've got four fingers and six toes

I guess I'll put some gloves on

The inventory song is neat

It teaches them, they need two feet

Or they can't walk down the street

It really is important

Gripping things is kind of tough

When digits...you've not enough

You know your fingers' with your stuff

You'll go and find it later

So, if you think that  this is wrong

And you do not like this song

Put me back where I belong

I think this song's a service

Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes

I've a friend with half a nose

Now you know what no one knows

Inventory is required.
.
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
heat courses through
to
fills my face
as he shys away from my hand
an eyelash remains clinging to his cheek
i want to scream
shout
cry
how could i be so repulsive
to him?
what had i done
other than love him
to make him so uncomfortable
its not fair how
friendly he is
the smiles
the jokes
the lunches we spend together
hes not my best friend
so that stereotype has been
avoided
but now ill never get the chance
i see it behind his
light
eyes when he looks at me
he will always hold me
at a polite
friendly
distance
that hurts more than
being rejected,
this awkward limbo
i accidentally touch him so much, a normal friendly
brush
helping him open something
brushing his hand as i playfully take
his textbook
but he always gets the same look
desperate
awkward
uncomfortable
i'm not a *****
for loving you
goodness knows
an accidentally brush
wont affect you with
the disease that plagues me
i want to hate you for not touching me
but i can't
if love's a disease
then i'm
festering
well back to my normal non clever ****** stuff. yay.

— The End —