Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2023
It's a time to be outside
so I open the door
but can't believe my eyes
seeing an insect horde.

I should be able to enjoy the day
without perking their antennas
so I foolishly say I should stay
as the world becomes Gehenna.

The bugs tell me to keep it moving
by making me itch
they say it would behoove me
to be rich.

They crawl on the ground
and fly in the air
they make annoying sounds
and get in my hair.

So I ask the nicest of neighbors
if they have a solid solution
but the bugs got them belabored
so they only suggest pollution.

This world is too itchy
like a thick sweater
that I always keep with me
through scorching weather.

There are millions like me
who can't stand the discomfort
making it all the more frightening
when their bodies are discovered.

The gnashing proboscis
of a million mosquitoes
might eventually cost us
the skin of our heroes.
Andrew Rueter
Written by
Andrew Rueter  30/M/Kentucky
(30/M/Kentucky)   
128
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems