Ode To A Toenail

O! thou wert the epitome of beauty!
A perfect, majestic, moon-y arc...
And now, thou art gone from me -
Leaving my soul blistering in the dark...

O! how my toe bleeds and aches,
And throbs with love for thee;
Groaning and moaning sounds it makes -
For the gash is not pretty to see...

O! how i groomed thee -
Kept thee polished and trimmed...
And this is how thou repaid me -
Deserted me while my tears brimmed.

But i have self-respect, and will mourn for thee no more...
Instead i shall wait and watch - for a new, more superior nail to grow.



poet's note: composed sometime last year, while in pain-induced stupor at 11.30 p.m., after skirmish with bedstead resulted in ripping off of half of aforesaid nail - intensification of pain, and much free-flow of blood occurred due to poet having to take (sterilised) blade to her toe in order to cut off portion of nail that still remained attached to flesh. it was all rather horrible. sympathy is still solicited in any form conceivable, but will be appreciated most in guise of currency.