Mosquito, like all parasites,
You're able to perversely thrive
On creatures who are still alive.

A quiet man, I know my rights;
If on my blood a meal you make,
I'll do my best your life to take.

One thing that always drives me mad
Is when I'm lying in my bed
And you come buzzing round my head.

In nature, nothing's good or bad—
All things contribute to the whole;
But some would seem to have no soul.

Mosquitos are the kind of pest
Who never let a person rest.
In light of this, mosquito small,
I wonder why you're here at all?

©2016 Michael Fraley

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