Flies

Such pesky little things,
Completely black and fury
With two wings,
Which make my head explode.

I scare them away,
With my books and words
But like little suicide bombs
They return, hungry for more.

My eyes loose their focus
When two or more appear,
A whole squadron
Of brave little pilots.

But I lost my patience
On their previous Blitz,
I take my aerosol gun
And shoot them down without remorse.

Later I watch,
How their little wrecks
Fall and crash on the solid floor
With no survivors to be counted.

But as soon as I sit down
And think this war has ended
The noise of their new engines
Hits my brain like a spike.