Bipedal Insects
Bipedal Insects
I hate and hate and hate.
I want to stop others from being happy.
How dare they be safe, and well fed?
How dare they be patriotic?
How dare they be American?
A plague upon the land.
Termites gather at the base of the tree.
One to the other they chatter.
“We can do this.”
“We can do this.”
“We can do this.”
The first bite is bitter tasting.
The second is even worse.
It is the full flavor of truth.
A strange and unknown taste to most,
if not all of the ill minded,
Hard-shelled, individuals that have no concept of hope.
“Add sauce…” they yelled as one.
“We can do this.”
The chant became louder.
Passers by that normally would not notice…
now took time to listen.
“We can do this.” (clicking pincer noises, the sounds of lies and deceit made real)
“Do what?” Some might ask, if they could see, but they could not.
Blinded by facts right in front of them.
The long time between school and life, leaves gaps.
These openings, others fill willingly with dark thoughts…
Controlling… all.
Crush the bugs, don’t listen to the words.
They are nothing but pests to the mighty tree.
Be strong be faithful.
God shine his mighty Light, the son…
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2019
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