Scabs

I try to let them win me over.

So maybe I’ll leave em be.

Next thing I’m picking em off unconsciously.

If it’s found foreign to the topography?

A fact I can’t except subconsciously.

The dirty nails that pick em off?

A monstrosity.

Do what’s got to be.

If it wasn’t for hydrogen peroxide.

I’d be a digit or two down the dark side.

Done counting to twenty piggy’s

Sum of Which?

Concerns Craft of Witch.

A batched brewed to glitch.

The Itches that trigger my toes groves and holds noses hostage as everyone knows.

None better than worst

Pursed noses.

Crows rows.

It ain’t roses.

But at least it distracted me from scratching at rashes. Picking scabs. Doing a general disservice to ones own health.