Murder

Just the other day
There was an insect on my wall.
It looked like a tank.
It looked as though it had
A mission. Perhaps it was sent here
To kill me. I
Stared at the thing for a bit,
Maybe a few minutes.
I think
It stared back. We
Were waiting, each of us
Preparing for the other to strike.
Then I got up, grabbed a tissue,
And folded the little son-of-a
Bitch in it. I didn't crush him,
No, that would be too easy;
That is what he wanted.
So I took the wad of tissue,
Insect intact,
And I flushed it down the toilet.
The last words the motherfucker ever heard
Were
"Good luck down there."
How appropriate.