In the deepest tinniest crevice of the jungle
Cries a small and unhappy dung beetle.
The moon-lit night amplifies his woes
For the pains he feels no one knows.
He lingers at the bottom of the food chain
And camouflages into the dirt.
Without merit or any other sort of gain
He lies there building up the hurt.
At the top there is no place for him
For his job is very unpleasant.
His chances for mobility are slim
For in this jungle he's but peasant.
One day he hopes to touch the sun
To be like the others and join their fun.
Until then he'll hide in his corner
Where it's quiet and safe, it's where he has honour.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
Lights Out Kiskadee
PoesiaTurn your thoughts into words and share them with the world... I've decided to channel such into poetry ... and trust me I don't regret it ...Plz like my poems n comment so I will know if you're enjoying them or not ?#Ray_Egbert
