The Fly.
Curse it's
constant buzzing sound,
Tiny fly
pasts round and round.
Lands then
waits 'til you forget,
Back again
but he'll regret,
Entering my
sacred space,
Waving arms
I shout and chase.
Always he
avoids my swats,
Really
fucking hate him lots.
Taunting me
he ducks and dives,
Surely wasting
both our lives.
Must stay
calm, my hand is strong,
Flies don't
really live that long.
Yes he
might bounce off my head,
But in a
week he should be dead.
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