The Fly Poem by Andrew Nawroski

Once I dissected a fly
Don’t know why but dissected a fly
Put it under a microscope
And saw its blood flow before it should die
Moving inner organs like a isotope
So clean and pure the perfect thing
All neat and precise
Unlike some bee with a deadly sting
But all meant to be so concise
Then its blood did halt
And inner organs went all lame
I felt sad coz it was my fault
And thought never to do the same.