Those colors,
Of running bugs,
From one point to the skin,
The pain may not be so serious,
Yet the feeling aroused,
As the little creatures take ones' body for a highway,
That smell when its crashed,
And a series of lovely pecks,
Oh micro-comrades!
In public on when exposed to heat,
And the creature 'comes out' to see off suffocation,
Then spotted by fellows,
The suspicion you're handled with,
The fear installed amongst you,
Oh micro comrades!
How do they breed so fast?
To infest every scholarly joint,
Especially the precious sleeping zones,
Is the said fumigant spray effective?
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