Sickness

Gary’s guts were swooshing about all over the place.
And his farts were gross.

His face perspired and his eyes were wired;
All he wanted was a slice of dried toast.

But Gary couldn’t move,
His legs a weak jelly mess,
Whilst his hair was all lank
from his sticky cold sweats.

He starting wishing for his mum,
Whilst clenching his bum;
He’d never felt so bad in his life.

Gary collapsed to his knees,
Looked up with little ease,
And asked Suzie if she’d be his wife.

© Carl Burkitt 2013

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