The Insects

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is something I wrote while feeling angry- it doesn't really make sense, but I thought I'd post it anyway.

Submitted: March 25, 2013

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Submitted: March 25, 2013

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If I try, suddenly I become

 Invisible to the naked eye

An insect, slowly drying out under your microscope as

You struggle to see me

 

So I stop and

I scream

And cry out for your blindness to find me

And still you only see the bad,

Hear the words but not the meaning

 

And a misty sickness slowly clouds my judgement

Like a blue-black swarm of hissing flies, four million

Tiny aircrafts with military precision

And all plummet in fixed positions

To hit me where it hurts

 

The last time forever came

I saw it go by with envious eyes

This time it will not be held

Out of my reach as I scream

And cry

The blindness will see me

My sickness will die as the fuel runs out.

 

If I try, suddenly I become

 Invisible to the naked eye

An insect, slowly drying out under your microscope as

You struggle to see me

 

So I stop and

I scream

And cry out for your blindness to find me

And still you only see the bad,

Hear the words but not the meaning

 

And a misty sickness slowly clouds my judgement

Like a blue-black swarm of hissing flies, four million

Tiny aircrafts with military precision

And all plummet in fixed positions

To hit me where it hurts

 

The last time forever came

I saw it go by with envious eyes

This time it will not be held

Out of my reach as I scream

And cry

The blindness will see me

My sickness will die as the fuel runs out.

 


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