Poetry

Night Before Op (#1256)

With stupid worries, I’m rife,
When going under the knife,
Ideas flash through my head,
The night before in my bed,
Will the doc’s hand be steady?
Bah, for this I really am ready,
I’ll be awake on the op table,
My nerves need to be stable,
Ah, my runaway imagination,
At least it’s not full castration!
What silly worries to consider,
My brain is such a bad kidder!

Any Thoughts?

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