Sitting in my bedroom, studying for the test,
And for the mosquitoes, have the opportunity, the best!
Lurking beneath my shadow, waiting for me to involve
In studies or head - breaking problems to solve.
When I am into it,
On my body they sneak and sit.
Their proboscis slowly piercing my skin,
On either my hand, ankle or my shin.
Clever them, they are not at all seen,
They're the cruel blood suckers, how mean!
They feed on me continuously till I am done,
And when I feel the itch, I can find none.
They all vanish into thin air,
But I wonder, how my blood's weight they bare...
I have no objection for them to suck blood,
I have no objection to fill their stomachs with this huge flood.
I object to the fact the itching they create,
Though aware that ruthless death is their ultimate fate.
I don't know if you've observed this,
You kill one, you get a sadistic pleasure and a cunning bliss.
But yes, we are part of their food chain,
No matter what, they cannot refrain,
From sucking our blood their only food,
And yes, I think it's true that everything happens for good.
They need food to survive,
And they need to suck blood for their energy to revive.
Such minute creatures, such a menace they create,
Pestered our ancestors, pester us till date.
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