Ode to Ye Cockroach

Last night, dear cockroach

You lovingly creeped through my bathroom.

When the trash bin descended,

You scurried towards the door in wild, admirable abandon.

You paused in faux death beneath the too small crack

between the door and floor,

And I tried to kill you.

Oh ye scurrier in the night,

Towards the fridge now;

I almost have you.

For you only know terror,

My inch long, caramel-brown friend,

And you creep towards yet another of the trash bins 

so that you are outnumbered,

one to two.

I try and trap you between,

To maybe even spare you,

Offering you the ramp of my mango plate into the holy receptacle.

But alas, you dodge,

And near my bed, you meet your

Doom.

It is somewhat accidental

Since I've been told you never die.

Against the wall,

I notice you are dead because

Your legs stick and you are still.

My skin crawls as you did,

And I force you into your home,

Where you could've been alone and well,

And tie off the waste bag

Because who knows if you will arise again.

And so, ye cockroach,

That is your final, harrowing tale,

That of our meeting,

and of your 

Demise.