A mosquitoe’s tale


A mosquito seems to be drunken came,
From nowhere it appears,
To drink my blood, that's flowing like flood ,
For it's quiet nears and dears.
He bit my hand,he bit my foot,
He bit me everywhere,
Thinking I was,how this crass ,to bit my face dare.
I tried to catch him, quiet again and again,
But he flew, like a weak hue,
And my efforts went in vain.
After flying again he came,
To bite me there,
And he did so ,again oh no,
About his tummy little did he care.
Then red as lamp his tummy became,
And became so wide,
Then he try to jump and fly,
But unable to do so, with ache he cried.
He failed to fly,
And sat on my book,
I flushed with rage, stared that page,
And I shut my book.
To drink less ,he should have tried,
Greed is what made him die,all cried.

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