My bugs

The caterpillars have started to eat my garden. My plants will be gone and I can't breathe.

And the ants are taking my sugar and then nothing feels sweet anymore.

And the moths have started to eat my clothes and soon I'll have no way to hide the ugliness inside.

And the termites are in my walls and soon the cold will get me.

And last, there will be the flies. They'll eat and eat away at me until nothing is left. Just hollow bones void of meaning.

And maybe then I'll be happy. With no bugs and no body, maybe then I'll feel good. Maybe then I could let go and see that life isn't that bad.

But it would be too late because the bugs got to me.