I spied with my blue eye a bug curled up
In post mortem inside a sheer glass light.
I feel how strong how I recall the day
I watched it die. I did not have a screwdriver
To break the white fluorescent bulb. No way!
It looked like a gross bug and I hate all
Gross bugs; roaches being the worst of all
The lot. It still lies decaying. What if
It were a butterfly, with its powder
Wings painfully burning in third degree?
I would have pried the screen off with absent
But strong rough fingernails. I would rather
Be cut and bleed for beauty than for an
Ugly thing to viciously gnaw on me.
I will admit that it isn't nice or
Flattering for my character; but I
Am very honest with myself always.
Darwin should have added the looks of a
Creature in his theory. Always bleeding
For beauty is something we girls are too
Familiar with. We wax and pluck too much
Of our bodies, trying to fit into
New clothes which are two sizes too damn small
Only for some dumb guy to tell us we
Are so pretty. And yet we aren't by the
Time our spirits have withered away
Without a compliment. We starve our souls
To starve ourselves. I starved a curled up bug
Inside a thin burning white light because
I did not care about the thing at all.
Did it deserve to die? Of course. Well it
Wound up within a light of its own will.
This way is how we treat ourselves every
Day of the long tortured year since we hurt
Ourselves so we do not end up like this
Bug stuck in the ceiling forgot about.
We want to be the butterfly worth enough to be
Cared for. Ugly bugs don't get loved at all.