Their devilish eyes that suck the souls of many to come by. The eyes of which to make a man suicidal of actions they most regret. The eyes of which can dig deeper than a hole that a man can ever make out with a shovel of any type. The eyes that blink every time they detect the death of someone from any country or any city around the world. The eyes that threaten men and women without words as they shed a tear that signifies that chaos must come as a pay. The frogs, do not scare me.

The patterned skin that comes in configurations of dots or marks which could not be finite for. Their skin that resembles the pictures of what came by, what is going now, and what will be eventual. The skin that flashes others' eyes with bright color, the color that radiates with the bright neon they have, The skin that has the markings of how many souls they have taken and can be a warning whenever the number of how much can grow. The skin that distracts from the other features that they have to attack. The frogs, do not scare me.

Their long tongues they attack flies with that comes without a warning or a sign. Their tongues that swipe away anything of the frog's choice in the blink of their eyes. The tongues that act as lasers and move faster than the speed that light can go from point to point. The tongues that build the character of not being safe around the creatures they are. The tongues that come in their color, similar to their skin, that stand out whenever the tongue stands out with. The frogs, do not scare me.

The fingers, unlike any other creature that sticks to whatever surface that they please. The fingers that make a frog leap high to come down with force along the way. The fingers that are round like the world or worlds they take over. The fingers that are round like the eyes that they see with, round like the armadillos that curl up that they push over to roll down the surfaces like a lone-standing wheel of cheese coming down from the hill, waiting to be captured. The fingers that stick like suction cups and will not refuse to let go. The frogs, do not scare me.

The "ribbit" that is not on the same level as a rooster signaling to the farm people that the sun has come up, but at the same level as a soldier crying at their broken legs and signaling to the comrades that the sun will come down for them. The "ribbit" that makes itself a horrifying noise, a noise that is best to wish comes without anything else. The "ribbit" that widens the eyes of whoever gets through the territory they do not know is trespassing; sad to know the frogs claim whatever territory they get to. The frogs, do not scare me.

The screaming of a thousand prey, collecting to a pitch that cannot be played in an instrument for a much more beautiful sound, as opposed to the sound of perishing. The screaming that rings no vibrato, thus implying it is, once again, a much more beautiful sound, or even a song that the other animals can hear for. The screaming that the frogs identify as a song, that no one can have the heart to stop their singing or the choir that comes in. The frogs, do not scare me.

The poison that they carry that stings until all there is to view from the eye is a blur, a blur like all colors morphed in. The poison that can feel funny inside, whether it gets to the arms first, but is funny to the frogs as they will laugh at your misfortune. The poison without a clear word to if it is venom or poison, and, as predicted from the experience of others who have received so, cannot be able to carry the time to wonder or identify as one entity to tell others what had come to you. The frogs, do not scare me.

The leaping that goes high enough to climb to the top of the tree as the frog will gain its skill once there is more than the frog must take and steal. The leaping that makes the frogs glide with their webs and gives the birds the only other thing that they fear that flies along with the patterns that they fly with. The leaping with an endless list to come if the frog develops their strategy higher to make the other side more difficult and easier to the frogs if they can flank the other side with their strategies that fell short of what they have. The frogs, do not scare me.

The crawling they use to go through the spaces without the air they can hold. The crawling with little to none noise for the smallness of the frog makes it more difficult to hear it with an ear that one luckily has if the frogs do not go for the ears first. The crawling that makes like a threatening march to the field before introducing the other armies. The crawling that makes like a scary walk that does not match with a normal walk coming from another creature of either their kind or a kind to name. The frogs, do not scare me.

The colors that call themselves chief or the strongest of the group and the one with the highest count of bodies they call chief. The colors that have no exact meaning, for if the frog can be a red or a yellow or a green, they will not act like a red or a yellow or a green, for it will not matter what color they have, it will matter what they will do to make their color more vague to know. It will not be worth it once you judge a frog by the hues that they have on their backs and faces and limbs if they have the cause and effect just like one without a color that does the same. The colors that are like a uniform of the diverse groups that come together once the time comes in, and use what they have been fighting with and what they have been fighting for to the highest of how much they can control. The frogs, do not scare me.