I’m A Very Rash Person

I almost wrote no verse today,
My focus is not there.
I’ve got the plague, the walking death,
My skin hates me I swear.

It’s blistered, lumpy, burning, raw,
The itching drives me mad.
It’s spreading fast it’s spreading far,
My face looks really bad.

I do not know just what it is,
My doc’s a busy guy.
I really hope to see him soon,
Sometime before I die.

I think it might be fungal but,
It yet may prove me wrong,
It may have been bacterial,
Or viral all along.

But either way it matters not
I’m cutting this one short,
To fix myself another drink,
Doc Booze my last resort.

Cheers, Winston