When I first saw him,
I wished nothing upon him but death.
He is a simple organism, after all, a grotesque one at that.
But who would want to take life from such an innocent, perhaps even kind and gentle-natured being?
One who, despite his place in the world as but a mere, insignificant speck
Trudges onward with his life
Desiring nothing more than food, water, shelter, and the accompaniment of his brethren.
He gleefully treads across the seemingly unending expanse of the tiles upon which he has found himself
Due in part to an open door
And in part to his raw curiosity.
That has caused him to skitter across the floor
Inexplicably dodging the hands of death by my crushing, weighty feet.
All of his time here has been spent in a miserable environment, devoid of food and suitable company
And yet, he, being the cheerful beetle that he is, crawls on his merry way to everywhere and nowhere.
Who would end the existence of such a happy creature?
One of pure optimism and contentment in his seemingly isolated environment.
Thus, the beetle whom I now love so dearly
Will exist mutually with me
In his new accidental home.