Bump

Ever since the winter begun,
I had a plan.

So, I bought maybe three bug itch creams,
as mosquitoes have been haunting my dreams.

And I put each carefully away,
waiting for the day.

Couldn't find a single one,
the mosquitoes had won.

I am itching everywhere,
by-my-sock-and-shirt and I already looked there.

There are no mosquitoes in my living-room,
it got me on the outside, to my doom.

The little hell spawn,
hit me on the lawn.

Non the less I am sitting here itching in a slump,
trying not to scratch my bump.

And despite my terrible warning dream,
I still have no cream.

You know it hurt when she bit into me,
and she was pretty large and beastly.

I feel bad for the way we parted,
for I am not cold-hearted.

But, what was I going t do?
Argue?

Pardon me,
lady…

But that is my blood,
could you not!?…

And she seemed like a little old lady too,
she had the reflexes of glue.

I am certain she'll be fine,
after drinking bodybuilder blood wine.

Now I am itching all over,
waiting until the itch is over.

I have one more trip to make,
If I panic I’ll slap myself into a pancake.

I think I will avoid the racket,
by just putting on my winter hood and jacket.

Sigh, and why must they make us itch,
what are they tying to teach?

Is there even a lesson here,
of is it purely about fear?

Cause it works on me,
and by now my bump is now the size of a pea.