The Weak Skin Flies Poem by Gil Gregorio

In my days of younger years
when innocence was my conscience
with simple thoughts and ideas
intermingled with pain and suffering
of the wounds that are opened
as caused by itching and scubbing...
I remember those days in the past
when the zooming creatures landed
on my feet where they sipped
the moisted wound in open air
no malice, no shame, no subterfuge
flew and landed in open space
clasping or washing both hands
and feet as they steer awfully agaped
at a man who'd have that feast!
If I were a fly who'd feasted
the opened feasting wound of feet,
I would curse the day I first tasted
that sapping pain of flesh...
weak skin indeed suffers its own!