Mosquito

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I killed a mosquito that was standing on my knee
The moment it died, it wished it was a bee
To sting me before it dies, I seem to agree
I killed it because it was annoying, how could it not be?
I killed it before it sucked the blood out of me

Maybe it wasn’t going to, but now I’ll never know
Was it a smart decision or a mistake or a woe?
I regret it, I’d do it again if I had to, a part of the show
It’s not the only thing I’ve killed, twice in a row
But I’m against violence, to it I say: NO!

A dilemma of melancholy, a sonnet of gloom
Its friend is here for revenge, roaming to zoom
So fast and annoying like a sonic boom.
There are probably a bunch breeding in my room
planing schemes against me, to end me in doom

But I’ve killed the other one
And I’ll kill the rest until they’re done
I’ll be a mosquito assassin, for blood I’ll run
I’ll revel in killing them, even have fun
And after they die, I’ll retire, be a nun
In this poem I intended no pun.

 

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