Itch and scratch front and back,
It's in my skin, I'm under attack.
I can't go out or sit without,
Tearing my skin and wriggling about.
Yet no-one can say why I am this way,
It could be in my genes, beyond my control,
Or from my food chemically sprayed,
Or washed in the clothes I wear each day.
I'm not to know, but off I go,
Itch and Scratch,
Itch and Scratch.
© 2020 Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen
Photo: Pixabay License
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