Give Me The Sample!
Antisocial little droplet
Hiding in my fingertip.
I called for you - you did not answer!
Forcing me to now reprick.
I lanced again, into the tissue,
Calloused hard from all these thuds,
I squeezed my finger with the purpose
Of procuring bright red blood.
But no! My body stayed so stubborn,
Not giving me a proper sample.
"I'll change the lancet - then I'll finally
Get results." My smile was ample.
Knowing that it wasn't time
To change the clocks or check detectors,
I still swapped out my old lancet
For a fresh, sharp blood collector.
I pressed the button, heard the shunk
And felt the sting of proper lancing,
Squeezed my finger, saw the blood
And did a jig of happy dancing.
It could be to just prick once -
Leaving me, the lancet horder,
Feeling like a mild dunce.
I suggest, my Faithful Readers
That you heed my sage advice.
Don't forget to change the lancet -
Prick your finger once, not twice!