Thrips In My Tea

I hate thrips/thunderflies/thunderbugs/corn flies/whatever the heck you want to call them, they’re little bastards.  I find them EVERYWHERE and it makes me mad.  So mad that I wrote a poem about the little feckers.

Thrips in my tea
Thrips in my tea
Thrips thrips thrips
Thunderflies
One just went and died
Inside my computer screen
Broken pixel trail left behind
Like snot from a snail
Backwards and forwards
Frozen in the pixels
Bastard thing
Couldn’t have gone
Another three inches
And out of sight?
A tick on the white
Just upwards from middle
Slanted
But always in sight
Thrips in my soup
Thrips in my soup
Thrips thrips thrips
Thunderbugs
I’ve eaten three today
At least

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