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Face Lift - a poem


Sir_Nigel

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‘I think I’d be better off dead’

moaned the man with an arse for a head.

His words were unclear,

And I wouldn’t lean near,

But I think that’s about what he said.

 

He turned and walked blindly away

As I overheard a passer by say:

A cheap day excursion

to a rogue plastic surgeon

had tragically left him that way.

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I think I know this man. He pulls faces at me in the bathroom every morning.

I like the rhythm of the poem like two limericks stuck together. I love limericks and have quite a large collection but I never thought of exending the style to create something else.

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