Song of Mosquitoes

They sang themes to my ears Making sounds so crude- Like that of a wailing trumpet, Hovering around the room- As their ravenous taste for blood do protrude. In the shade of darkness They sang in unison, Songs so horrendous calling for a prickly taste of blood. We gassed the room- Chased some around with broom- And closed the shutters as we give way to slumber. Not long do they come marching forth Blowing their bagpipes-like men ready for combat Whispering words of which none I could decipher. The songs continued through the night, How I wished they sang lullaby to my ears And not songs that do cast fears. How I wished I could ask them- What joy they do derive- Piercing their needles into our flesh? So solemn their songs butchered the air To chase them; to my ears land a ting of slap Waving hands in the air for a momentary tap. They've got just days to live As science do proclaim, Tiny little creatures raving through the night, The taste of blood keeps them at sight. To survive they must pierce through human flesh, Leaving swollen hills upon our skins. This song they sang; A song of intimidation- Calling out to others to attack- From beneath the chairs and those hiding among the clothes on the rack.