The Beetle

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On one cloudy day,'twas bleak and painful,
I sat upon a step disdainful
at cracks approaching,
at bugs encroaching
upon my little concrete stoop.

"Shoo", said I, upon incitement
for lack of words with more excitement
as beetle, creepy tiny crawly
inched towards my stony wally
that divided street and concrete stoop.

Heed he didn't my fervent callings
continuing his deathly crawlings
as dreadful panic
and fear volcanic
bled out onto my concrete stoop.

With fingernails and teeth and rage
I dared escape my cruel cage
that held me tightly,
all day and nightly,
a prisoner of that concrete stoop.

And when I breathed that ocean air
I knew that I'd become aware
of loved and lost,
of held and tossed
beyond my faithful concrete stoop.

So, weary, hungry, freely bleeding,
I crawled the way to Lovely, pleading
"Take me back!
oh, Take me back!",
tears shed upon my concrete stoop.

And, what of course, I heard replied
that fateful night, the night I died,
the pitter patter
and pitter patter
of beetle on my concrete stoop.





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