Ode to a pimple
Nu Magazine - April 16, 2009
Does a blemish have a soul, I ask The answer is quite simple Of course there is life lurking in The depths of every pimple Like all of those before me My existence was rather bleak For my entire lifespan Lasted no longer than a week
It was on the face of a teenage girl That I made my debut With picture
day around the corner It was God’s way of saying *@$! you
The brief life a lesion Is melancholy at best For I am never welcomed
On either face, or back, or chest
Swelling to a crusty bulge I could not be ignored Between the stares and
dirty looks I caused a great discord
Clearly I was the bane of her existence And her fingers the bane of mine But I knew
that myself and those grotesque flanges Would reunite in due time
As I felt my surface turning To a rather crimson hue I could sense my
extermination looming It was time to bid adieu
Suddenly, with such conviction I felt a pressure too great to stop Death
surrounded this affliction And there I died with a silent pop
It was clear I could not have stood my ground But on the horizon
I had found Twas pink and pusy, large and round
Another oily, sebaceous mound
Becca Weisz, 16, attends Hanover Park High School.
NU Online is published by New Jersey Jewish News
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