I Was Poorly Clad

I had a foot that itched so much I scratched it till it bled.
I danced upon the concrete floor then fell down on my head.
I laughed and laughed as blood spilled from the wound that I now had,
The doctors came but I refused 'cause I was poorly clad,
to have a pill or have a stitch in that wound upon my head.

Tags: Poetry; Poetic Words; Life Poems