A flicker in the corner of my eye,
a sudden movement, small and quick.
Without a thought, my hand flies high
and falls with force—a fatal flick.
The action is done in half a breath
before my mind has time to intercede.
A tiny life snuffed out in death,
a creature crushed by a thoughtless deed.
I stare at the broken form,
its legs curled inwards, still and stark.
Remorse builds and slowly warms
my cheeks, my heart now heavy and dark.
What right did I have to forever end its day?
The small bug's time too brief.
If I had paused and just turned away,
it might have lived; that chance now stolen like a thief.
A paper towel becomes its grave,
and I lay it down with gentle care.
My senseless act screams as if it can be saved,
and my guilt hangs heavy in the air.
Next time, I'll strive to be more kind
to small lives shared in this space.
A moment's pause, a thoughtful mind,
might spare another from my haste.
