Bed bug?
I have known you from your genesis: a speck of dust
Impatient enough to be hatched by your busy-hunting mother-
Who is fertile enough to birth till the coming next after the second generation within three-sixty and five days
Science calls you nymph, younger instar
But to me, you are a lymph-monger monster
To you, pets are the ground beef, but humans- the Filet Mignon
On each meal of blood; served by the tip of your rostrum; sawing through their peels: you moult like a grass snake till the fifth; engorged; and size up to an apple seed- bright-red; translucent; then fading to brown; and then to opaque black
Now, science christens you Cimex Lectularius
But to me, you are a little vampire
Like the thief you are,
You creep clutters and crevices;
Uninvited,
You visit visitors and neighbours;
You detest neither a home as filthy as a pigsty nor as immaculate as a virgin white wool
Though you transmit not a disease, but,
You nock your host’s peel with itchy welts
A single-you impresses wretchedness
A congregation of you signs infestation
Alas!
At the touch of the sun, you quiver;
At the sight of the masked hunter, you shiver;
When nostrils are saluted by diffusions like that of moldy shoes or like that of rotten raspberries;
Then you live, or you die you bug of bed
