Hunted down by unknown tracters <br />by whims of their own agony <br />creeping like woodworm sacked... <br />about to obey shouts outside <br />while the prey hunters slowly, <br />gently, crawling the camped slot! <br />Which one is not belonging <br />to this lowlied feathers <br />by the wings of an embicile? <br />Which one is not searching <br />to this hallowed fetters <br />by the shouts of a blind? <br />Ah...poorly little maggots <br />shun away by their own pestering <br />and their own proud heart deludes <br />from the point of their shyness... <br />Who am I then to judge <br />and be judged by the innocents? ! <br />Ah...poorly bigger maggots <br />fought their own losses.<br /><br />Gil Gregorio<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ah-maggots/
