By Amir A.
I have killed a Skeeter or Midge,
With no more aiming the peak that we reach.
The nature has lead me in doing the slap,
To Select, and infinite order to trap.
But now are the times for some deep understanding,
Where we feel that pride of an agony cranking.
Have faced and then solved, longer walk that all want!
Using the words to paint brighter and bond.
However, the Midge was shown back from the hand,
My eye didn’t catch it, was too sleepy to act.
The Skeeter developed to the level of beast,
My light was still off, no passion or deed.
Thus, I created again a form of mosquito and a new aviate,
That even my cats had to run, barricade…
White Noise Zine 