This form is called the Magic 9 and for actually pretty boring reasons! The rhyme scheme is abacadaba which is the word “abracadabra,” but without the r’s. I hate rhyming (which is a very bad trait for a poet to have,) but here I am in the middle of a rhyming monster. 😡
And if you’re sensitive to gross things, I suggest skipping out on this poem.
Bad Skin
A pulpy mess of yellow puss Indented scars scab up the chin My fingers poke at the crust Down goes the dry flakes It’s worth the fuss The nose cradles stippled black beads They all must think I’m fairly nuts To love such oily, clogged up skin But self-love emerges from this trust.
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