On a Tsetse's Sting

Vehemently repugnantly stung thoughtless, careless, aimless hunter stung sharp and fingers swollen to cylinders a frisson of horror the pain was progressively indescribable heavier went its dignity penetrating blood, skin, skeleton and became numb, standstill as lead. Submerged into a boundless pool of quietude smoothly stared and waited frozen half to death which past revenge, enmity did it fulfil? Did it satiate its simmering wrath? And what did it attain? Hearts jumping with fury to convey hopeless venom to the wicked inspiration who conceived him? knowing its aftermath? Is it a pleasure or result of thoughts impure? Will it turn its destiny or seek dignified demur? Eternal sinner. How turn his failure into benevolence,forgiveness, cheer?