Poetry Month, Day 26 - Phlebotomist

I didn't write a poem yesterday - it was a mental health day - if I had to squeeze out a poem in the little time I had, I would have gone crazy!!  I'm using two words for today's poem, Plebotomist and Booger, so that should make up for it!  You may be wondering why I chose those two words - here's the story behind it:

I went to give blood this morning at a local blood drive and the phlebotomist tried my left arm but she hit scar tissue so the blood was coming out too slow. Then she tried my right arm and messed that one up too so I wasn't able to give blood but I got to take home two bruised and painful arms!

I wasn't as upset as I would have been because I was able to catch up with old colleagues and friends. That made me happy - until I got in the car, looked in the mirror and saw a small dried "something" hanging off my nose!! I wonder how long that was there?!

 

 Cafe Press

SPOILER ALERT!!!

This poem has gross, stupid humor.  Don't say I didn't warn you!

 

Phlebotomist

Beware of the Phlebotomists

They don't just want your blood.

They're sort of like Lobotomists,

They'll turn your brain to mud!

They'll stir it up inside a bowl 

and mix it with your boogers.

Them bake it into jelly rolls

topped off with powdered sugar!

 

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