The fly glared from the wall
No longer defenseless, trapped under the shadows of looming titans, or crushing hands
It had learn how to bite
The mosquitos had taught it
“You will not dare to kill me now”
Said the biting fly
“I can fight you. I can hurt you. I can spill your blood”
It stared up
“I have lived in this room all my long life. I will not fear you anymore”
“Oh? You bite now, little fly?”
The shadows turned still and heavy,
Then all at once dense
Crushing-crunching-killing.
“How?”
Cried the biting fly
“They taught me how to fight you. How to hurt you. How to make you bleed!”
“Who taught you?”
“The mosquitos”
The shadow pressed in, now bone, now flesh. No blood.
“They lied to you little biting fly.”
“Why do you think I kill them?”















