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Flight of the wasp


By Owen Cochrane-milnePublished 3 years ago 1 min read
Flight of the wasp
Photo by Nicolas DC on Unsplash

The flight of the wasp

He flies erratic

No dance happening

He is lost in a sea of the world outside.

Seeing it but can’t feel it

He darts, reverts and darts again

All around him is landmines of death

If he is caught surely death with prevail

Once more into the sun he chimes

The window pane blocks causing pain

More confabulation as the panic over rides his hard drives

If he could sweat he would

If he could get out he would

If he could rest he would.

He does perching for a moment to find himself.

His eyes yearn for the feel of the morning breeze

He had been stuck here for an eternity

Another frantic attempt

He hears himself buzzing he hates the noise

Especially reverberated off of the things things

Natural sounds so much more beautiful

One of them emerges

A fat oafish creature lumbering around beneath him

But what is that? the air smells of freedom,

He jumps and whoops as he feels the morning breeze

He cannot believe once again he can breathe

It’s more than just a little tease

He flies towards the door

THWACK he is knocked down by the thing

CRUNCH he is dead.

nature poetry

About the Creator

Owen Cochrane-milne

I am a new writer from England with a triptic mind and good vocabulary. Be prepared for disturbed sex drugs and rock n roll with a twist.

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