The Mosquito in the Meadow
Mosquito In The Meadow
I'm a mosquito in a meadow.
Can you see how tragic a life I lead?
I did not ask to be a mosquito,
I simply am one.
I drink of blood for nourishment.
Somehow the most terrible tragedy of time,
has befallen me.
Understand, my meadow is so beautiful.
Its got every miraculous and wondrous flower imaginable.
Colors are vivid and vibrant!
The spirits of the plants dance unrelentingly.
Life itself permeates the land, radiant, buzzing.
Yet, the pretty colors dont give me sustenance.
The vibrant energy, to me, appears as but a buzzing grey.
I'm but a foreign stranger to the native life.
I will never understand why life has put me here.
I will die a meaningless, confusing life of frustration.
As I search ceaselessly, fruitlessly,
for any shred of nourishment, I inevitably fail each time,
collapsing of exhaustion to what I believe is my death.
Yet after each death I wake up again,
back in the meadow...
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Comments
Hey Cherie, thanks for reading. Sorry about the delayed response as well. The mosquito was the best metaphor I could think of to draw a parallel to the human condition of needing social interaction, understanding, and acceptance. The primary emotion I hoped to convey was one of feeling tragically lonely, and outcasted. Also the ending was an attempt to emphasize the degree of depression was so great so as to make one contemplate their own potential existence within "hell" for lack of better term. You may have gathered all that, I suspect you gathered a good portion at least, but for sake of other readers :)