A bug’s trip to hell

I found a bug in your book

slapped dead by page 101 and

the fat man with claws for feet with

the devil and black bone days living

inside.

 

It must have gotten caught there

as it wandered through life looking

for the meaning or its mother,

crawling unaware into one of your

nightmares.

 

It learned what falling’s for

and then died, completely guiltless

in this unfortunate turn of events

when all it wanted was a little warmth and

sustenance.

 

I felt sorry for the insect.

It had probably never been to Hell before.

 

Hell doesn’t bother those who’ve been there,

but the charm wears off after a while and then

you start to wonder what you were doing there

in the first place, and you feel stupid

for taking so long to find

the exit.

 

We can handle it, but I felt sorry for

the bug.

 

 

 

 

 

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