My One Sadistic Pleasure

I derive no pleasure in hurting a fly, Preferring to let spiders do that for me, Or just to shoo them away. Bug spray is only used as a last resort, And sticky fly papers are banned at our house. But when it comes to weeds, I show no mercy, Not even for the little ones, And derive great satisfaction, From laying waste to their domain, Letting all that pleases the eye, And my taste buds have free reign in their place. My day is not complete unless I have undone the hard work of creepers, That come out after dark, Intent on strangling anything they can get to grips with. With weeds I have no empathy, With weeds I show no mercy, With weeds I show no restraint, And my pleasure in their demise, Only increases when I see a daffodil, Where once there was only weeds, Or watch my grandson pick a strawberry, Instead of a weed.