When I dissect you beneath my finger,
Pale grey mosquito, I feel you wriggle
And play dead, thinking I'll let you go; but
You are caught; and not till I remove those
...
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A vivid and graphic account - a sense of divine retribution on the part of the narrator rang out. Regards, Justine
Tan I hate mosquitosssssss...Bizzzzzzzzzzz but nice read good one dave
Tan, awesome write... my feelings exactly! Brian