Humanity

I can hear the fly dying

Somewhere...

I can hear it moving

It’s wings rapidly

In a tattered swan song.

I now see his black form

Blurry

Wandering aimlessly

About on the wooden floor.

The bug

Is just making sure

That I know he is dying.

Long and drawn out

And over the top dramatic

Like the old cartoons

Pulvilli over his heart

Gasping

“Good Bye Cruel World!”

I turn the music up some.

I can still hear him

Moving in spasms.

He is quite persistant in his passing.

I find him and crush him

Sending him on his way.

It was the humane thing to do.