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.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.