Hypochondriac

My face is covered In splotches My hair is dull and brown My stomach bulges And my butt is fat My back- it aches My head- it throbs I stubbed my toe Again He looked at me She pulled my hair And at my clothes The always stare My side- it pains My finger’s jammed And in the door My hand was slammed There’s a moth I scream with fright I run away With all my might My room’s dark My feet are cold And there’s the boogieman I was told.