This poem was written during a hard part of my life, and may be depressing.
I reach up but then I stop
I hold the bug between my fingers
thinking that its life is in my hands
I decide whether or not it lives
I decide whether or not it dies
its life is in my hands
yet I cannot do it
I cannot bring myself to kill this little bug
I put the bug on the ground
I walk away with pride in myself
thinking how I saved a life
thinking how I made a difference
I turn around and it's dead
killed by the shoe of a pedestrian
walking along on his merry way.
Back to Biography
Back to HomePage
This site is Copyrighted © 2003 by Patrick Thomson "pt2".