Hunting With Flypaper

The window is the forest And sunlight is the bait They try to fly outside But with sight they don't debate They buzz against the window And then they start to crawl Steady with the flypaper I catch them with the fold Feel the fast vibration The beating of the wings It will never leave the flypaper Unless it's body it leaves A yellow strip of glue With time a party of flies Some still buzzing but Soon to lose their lives A still but deadly weapon That some flies try to avoid I approach the waiting window Thinking of how they annoyed Between the window and the paper I make a small space A misscalculation in flying Eventually puts them in the paste The bait is still waiting And so is the trap The little help I give with satisfaction I could, but do not clap Untill the sun goes down I could play this deadly game Now I know what spiders know With the web their claim to fame The sun the flies attraction My attraction is the fly It's a funny fasination To watch them slowly die To some a feast of cruelty And to others a sadistic game To me it's retribution But really it's all the same