A Bug

I picked up a bug,
the bug was alive and 
moving, tween my
thumb and finger. I 
freaked out, and I threw 
the bug down on the rug
of a car. I said, "Ew.", 
because I realized it 
was alive and moving. It
bit me and I felt the bite. 
It was a tiny nip with its 
tiny jaws.I felt bad for the 
bug, afterwards. It 
scattered body parts all 
over. Rest in peace little 
bug on the rug, in that car.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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