Beelzebub

A fly flies up before my face

As I traverse ol’ Lucy’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.

The rest drop down like rain to eat;

They fill my eyes, they’re all I see.

I wish that somehow I could beat

The waves of bugs right off my eyes.

Instead they gobble up the meat.

They drink the tears amid my cries.

My mind soon fades and I realize

That I’ve become the lord of flies.