The Infestation

When I once again found myself 

in the beautiful home,

there was an infestation of bugs.

Small ones creeped from dark crevices; 

Winged ones spied from above.

Every time I squished one,

I found another.

Yin and yang ---

an everlasting reincarnation.

I found so many

that my skin began to crawl, as well.

Real bugs mixed with phantoms,

itching at my fragile skin.

When I escaped these crawlers

and whispers of symbolism

and haunting irony entered my mind,

I saw the bug procession’s entrance,

marching with pomp and circumstance 

through a door that had been ajar for years.

Author's Note

Not all infestations are the creeping, crawling type.

Reviews

[Franklin McKinley]

it's different and I like it. I know how hard it is to write from the heart as well as to think it out. I have wrote many short stories that I published and work on a few novels which were harder. So I applaud you!

[Harmartia Poe]

Thank you, sir :)

[Sophy Freebirds]

Ooouch!! Its creepy all the way round..Bugs and phantoms sounds so insidious.You've very ironically ended this poem.. Great job sweetie.. you've very expertly created an atmosphere ;)

~Sophy

[Harmartia Poe]

Thanks so so much, girl :)

[SEO]

So true. Well written, I especially liked the second part where you speak about Phantoms.

[Harmartia Poe]

Thank you so much :)