The Fly

What fly is this upon my wall darkly perched; black and small Against the yellow it often sits As if it is not there at all Its eyes like red-suns don't quite fit upon his head glowing they stick Till everything that I can see Has bright red eyes and giant wings I rise from bed poised to flee But my legs cannot carry me It's like there's glue spread on my floor The fly's as calm as flies can be My yellow wall cannot support The heavy fear that I still bore This fear of something black and small that still held me fast upon my floor The fly rubs his hands and leaves the tall perch it had on yellow wall it buzzes around then finally falls dead, not sinister at all