| Thin, gentle legs slide Down so softly, Ever-careful. Watchful eyes speculate The dangers surrounding My dark body. I cower in dark corners, While humans concoct stories Of intended fear. I do not lurk But tremble in fear, In trepidation. My restless mind wanders, Imagining a painful fate, An impending death. I live in constant worry, Fretting over every movement, Fear of being flattened. Some shoe, perhaps, Or a rolled-up newspaper, A desperate hand wields. If only they knew my fear, I wish not to harm, to frighten Only to live my quiet existence. We feel the same fear, Humans and my kind, Our limbs aquiver. Yet, I do not act on mine. No malicious intent dwell In my eight trembling limbs. |