Hypochondriac

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