Like fireflies, circling the torches on the porch.
Like moths, ebbing away at the soft cloth of clothes

It bugs me to know
Even more when you show
There is nothing I can do
To help you pull through

Like mosquitos, seven cylindrical mouths **** up several drops of blood
Like flies, frantically flapping flying ***** eaters

All the waste your handing
I'm handling
with my bare hands
There is only so much blood in a man's body