A gnat under a man's corpse

Feel free to fly my friend.

Land down on the nearest thing ahead;

Crack a joint for a good-will stretch.

Wrought the stench’s whereabouts route.



Look through wide spaces; feel free.

Fly around mirages of good looks,

To provoke a spectacle, peril crowd;

Would elapsed a minute to a man on his grave.



No little friend – don’t you be afraid.

Stuck on a loaf of meat? Bet you could come out.

Even if it’s a plank, or an approaching fly net,

Elusive enough is what you are.



Witnessed a crime? Be carried away is prohibited not.

Palpable parts – don’t stand a chance to survive;

Craved clots of blood – don’t be stubborn, accommodate none.

Trickling corpuscles might dried up; guess what, you’ve once stuck into?

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