Poetry Week: Prostate Cancer

Prostate Cancer
I’d rather be a dancer
Than have prostate cancer
Which doesn’t sound pleasant
At all
Your bits inside rotting
The doctor just spotting
The discharge and pain
In your smalls
It kills many men yearly
But typically nearly
Few of them went to
The doctors
So mums get your son
To get a finger up their bum
To make sure they’re Fit
And well

Ah thank you.


There were only two three entries in this years poll. Help LJ stay alive by encouraging me to post more regularly and enter your topic here.

For more of my award winning poetry see here

For some prose, see the latest post at The Other Compost

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