You're the size of a pea.
Most humans would mistake you for being edible.
You're confused by the new surroundings.
Take cover underneath a leaf, your new throne.
You're awake for twelve hours straight.
Go back to bed before life is subtracted.
You're unaware of your next food source.
Might snack on the crumbs since they're the only articles remaining.
You're starting to evoke a friendly odor.
Wash your feet and become less fascinating.
You're finally swtiched back to normal size.
Congratulations on making through it all.