A lad and a worm
A young lad held a worm in his hand.
Little did he know that he would obliterate its body
Its head was bulldozened, its body spilt for the last a curving charm.
His mother mulled him to let it inhabit the land, the farmer friend's aid voice.
The lad was indispensable and indisputable, his mission never faltered.
His tenacity and intellect soared as he grew in stature but his worms affliction never plummeting.
Do worms and insects feel no pain, nor are they apprehensive of being killed?
A man was cascaded in a floral bath and serenity of the soil filled the ambience.
The curtain was raised for the microcosm while the man was retrieving to the Genesis of his civilization.
As darkness skyrocketed, the species of invertebrae in a curving charm crawled over and blood freezing served its revenge cold.
Sparsely we know the boy is the man, grave is battle, worms are now succinctly predators and victim lies motionless and vanquished.
This poem is not what it means it signifies so much more than what it appears, read it and please share your views
Much Love
Jen
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