Damn it all, I'm bleeding bad
from, please pardon me, both ends,
and this all might make me sad
were it not for bonza friends
who joke about blood in the dunny
and look to make some photo bombs
(that would be, yeah, kinda funny)
about my crimson-scarlet yawns.
Friends take away the tragedy
and roughly wipe tear from wet eye,
to help me face reality
that I am really gonna die,
but at least the laughing host
won't be upset to see my ghost.
Sylvia thinks this is not in good taste. But she's smiling all the same.
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