The constant buzzing companionship of the flies of memories...
Its time to break-up,
And break free.
Fly squatter in hand,
I try to beat the flies down,
And make them go lifeless.
They lie listless for a while...seemingly spiritless.
Only to bounce back with with a double-fold spring in their wings.
Their renewed and vigour-filled incessant buzzing reverberates in my mind and soul.
It will always be there(ever-so loyal)...
The fly squatter lies abandoned in a corner.
The verdict is lifelong slavery to the buzzing masters.