Oh that were my problem id be but a happy being.

My vision has been blurred scince this past week

My face has been tearstained and my legs have been weak.

The burden I carry is worse than any load.  Any thought or feeling I have felt in this past week is crushing me like a dead weight.

I walk through the school. People busseling by, chattering, laughing. My dear friend catches up with me.

Her first words, "I have a really itchy bumhole."

Oh how I wish that was my trouble. My the world be rosey again and my bumhole ache.

The End

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