I held a bug in my hand,
Vibrant and without wings,
It crawled around and between my fingers,
It’s little legs worked fast,
It tickled and made me smile,
I closed my hands,
It began to jump,
It jumped again,
Its little body bashing against my palm,
It became sporadic,
I started to tighten my grasp,
I felt it jump with more joy,
As my grasp become tighter,
She jumped more and more,
Until there was no room left,
It was blissful,
I was she and she was me,
Then came a crunch,
Which pulled me from the bliss,
She had died.

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