The Mighty Cockroach

I’m a no-name no-good person of the wind

I’ve no concept of time or space or at least the one I’m in

The days string together so seamlessly that the concepts are just that, mere concepts to me

And a word could be said about the shelter I’ve occupied

Leaving things like comfort and freedom to the wayside

I’m but a cockroach displeasing and dirty

Flying only in the basement which I reside

My presence overshadowed by a flea

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