I was bored and found this stinkbug
Being the weird person I am
I gave him a small blob of nail polish
Just to see If I ever came across him again
I Left for a while and when I came back he was gone... So I went searching for him(AKA a little, walking orange dot). I had expected to find him happily wandering around like nothing was different(and he would just be more colorful)
When I found him climbing up the door-frame to my brother's room, I was horrified.
And needless to say... I had consequently MUTILATED him... His back leg was stuck to the nail polish and he was fighting just to walk, dragging a little trail of paint behind him. He would pause every once and a while just to attempt to scrape the stuff off-- but it would never work. He was bound to die a slow and painful death(unless my cat got to him).
I felt like such a horrible person:(
I mean I don't like stinkbugs! They're annoying as anything... But still:l for a moment it seemed like he looked at me, pleading for his freedom... But I couldn't help him...
My actions seemed so inhumane.
I couldn't get his leg to un-stick-- or get any of the nail polish off of his back
It seemed like the best thing I could do was put him out of his misery because he seemed like he was in so much pain.
So I flushed him away.
And now I feel like I've just killed a friend...
... Or maybe just a helpless little soul
He was innocent
A naive little creature
And I tortured him only to send him to suffocate, his tiny head being dragged away from the air, drowning him at a tedious pace....
And now he's gone forever:'(
And I'd murdered him...
Never put nail polish on the back of one of these guys:|
it does things to your conscience...
I named him Stewart
-may he rest in peace-
YOU ARE READING
Unsent Letters
PoetryUnsent Letters. We all have them. They're that one thing that we keep from the world, That one side of us that we never let anyone see, Those few words that we wish we could say These are a collection of poems, written to be letters Just a few more...
