It starts
You know
That little itch
On your butt
You know you want to
SCRATCH it
But no
You are in public
The itch
Will have to wait
But no
That little itch
Still persists
And just won't leave you be
Ignore it
You think
But
Oh wait
It won't stop
It gets worse
And
Worse
And worse
Until
You're in the store where
You can
Use that back SCRATCHER
And SCRATCH away
Or at least until the cashier spots ya
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem