Grody to the Max
Oh, how I dread the horrid sight
of that nasty slop, what a wretched plight.
Its stench invades my twitching nose
I turn away, but my nausea grows.
Forced to face it on my plate
My stomach cramps over the goo I hate.
To those who claim to love this dish
To me, it’s like a putrid fish.
An oozy texture, oh so gross.
As if it’s covered in a host
of slimy, squirming bloated worms.
I feel my skin covered by germs.
And as I take a hesitant bite
I can’t help but gag with all my might.
The taste, I fear, is truly foul.
My tainted tongue—it screams and howls
It’s like a mix of rotten eggs
and moldy cheese, my tummy begs
for me to stop and never try
this mush again, I’d rather die.
But still, I drive myself to chew
and swallow it down instead of spew.
My body rejects it and cannot take
this mush that makes my insides ache.
So please spare me from this “food”
That I find so vile and crude.
I’ll stick to what I know is right
And flush this gunk down the toilet tonight.
*I wrote this poem on January 9, 2024, as part of a ’30 days of poetry’ January challenge. This was day 9 and the prompt was: Describe a food you dislike in as much disgusting detail as possible. I chose to not reveal the food but to let your wicked imagination run wild (and the description wasn’t as gross as I could have gone, but it was as gross as I was going to take it).
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