Cosmetic Blemish

Poem By Cake Face

I had a deal with this one
I'd let him stay for a while
In the hope he'd grow bored and tired
Of his antisocial game.

He's still there
Just under the surface
Growing fat and arrogant
Mocking the hospitality of my flesh.

Soon to be evicted
In an erruption of blood and pus
I might well pluck or cut
This cosmetic blemish.

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