I'm a homeless fly
destined to die
destitute on the sidewalk.
No cakes for me on the kitchen side,
no conspiring against humans with my bride.
Left jilted by the absence of bathroom jihad.
Everyone speaks of the house fly,
they speak of it as a pest.
But all I have is a piss-stained alleyway
to truly call my nest.
I subsist on sick and shit,
and though house flies may be hated.
To be acknowledged as something that truly exists
is not to be negated.