Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25547916-20141112050012

A fly flies up before my face

As I traverse ol’ Mayer’s bog.

I wave an arm and in poor grace,

I tumble forward off my log.

My leg sticks deep into a hole.

The stench assails like putrid hog.

I work to keep my lunch down whole,

And find my leg is firmly stuck.

All struggles seem to take their toll;

I sink on further down in muck.

I let out screams but no one’s near.

It seems as though I’m out of luck.

A constant buzz feeds off my fear.

The flies are stalking over me,

And then one lands despite my leer,

And takes a bite of flesh with glee.

<p class="MsoNormal">The rest drop down like rain to eat;

<p class="MsoNormal">They fill my eyes, they’re all I see.

<p class="MsoNormal">I wish that somehow I could beat

<p class="MsoNormal">The waves of bugs right off my eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal">Instead they gobble up the meat.

<p class="MsoNormal">They drink the tears amid my cries.

<p class="MsoNormal">My mind soon fades and I realize

<p class="MsoNormal">That I’ve become the lord of flies.

<p class="MsoNormal"> <ac_metadata title="Anyone wanna review a poem-pasta?"> </ac_metadata>