Poem – The Bugs, They Run :

The bugs, they run,

Sucking the blood of the sleeping,

Hollow bodies on a wooden bed of splintered woes.

So it goes,

The illness takes the weakest

Then one by one the others fall like dominoes.

Survivors don’t win

They get to strive and work and not become free.

Up, hammer, drag, till they die.

Tossed into a pit

By their slightly stronger ‘friends’.

(My poetry collection, ‘My Heart, The Rocket’ available now via Amazon)

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3 thoughts on “Poem – The Bugs, They Run :

  1. This is disheartening yet when you read it you get a lesson or two. I like the metaphor of the bugs. You have captured the misery very well in these lines, especially the satirical tone of the last few lines.

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