The Itch Poem by nathan martin
The Itch
it was so hard to reach behind his shoulder,
as time went on he grew much older.
he tried to scrape the layers off of his epidermis
he tried to pour hot water on it from his thermos.
he could not reach it though he tried and he tried
he could not reach it so he sighed and he died.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
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5/4/2024 5:21:04 PM # 1.0.0.1119
