It crawls and twists along the back
Filthy, wretched, unpleasant,
Leaving no clues to where it was, or has been.
It hides in the crevices, the cracks,
Watching silently at “them”
Waiting for the right time to strike......
From their eyes it is nothing. It
Is tiny and seemingly weak
And hides itself under a brown shell,
Or rather the means with which to fly
For in fact its features are visible,
Visible to those who dare follow it into the darkness
Where it is prepared, ready to strike.....
How such a creature exists can’t be explained,
Or rather it can but just not by us.
If it could free itself from its barrier
It would hide and wait for prey,
Prey that see nothing to fear from it,
Yet their insolence could lead to their doom.
If only this diabolical insect, this heartless shrew,
Wasn’t trapped on a pitiful human’s back,
From where it can move, but never ever strike.....
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