Cockroaches

You’re dead on your bed,
As cockroaches come in.
They devour your head,
Like a drunk drinking gin.

As cockroaches come in
They cover your bed.
They consume all your skin
Like men being fed.

They devour your head
In the silence of night;
They begin to shred
Like a razor in flight.

Like a drunk drinking gin,
On a cold dark night,
Your daughter staggered in…
To a monstrous sight.

Cockroaches by K. Saitta © 2015, A Walk In Verse

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