New Poem? But They Are

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Most of you don’t see my personal Facebook page. If you did you would get to enjoy, if that is the word you would use, far too many posts about my new, and still tiny, breasts. They are an adjustment in more way than one. In any case, I was walking back from breakfast the other day, and adjusting my coat irritated lefty, and suddenly this little rhyme, to the tune of Oh Tannenbaum, jumped into my head.


But They Are

My boobs are sore
my boobs are sore
it seems to get worse weekly

My boobs are sore
my boobs are sore
at least they are not leaking

They are so small
they’re barely there
oh hey look
that is a hair

My boobs are sore
my boobs are sore
it seems to get worse weekly

*

I never claimed to be particularly mature.

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