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 And down I sink into the 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.