But Look, A Bug!

There's a bug on my pencil,

and it wants to get down,

it has wings to fly away,

but it just runs around;

There's a bug on my shirt,

it knows what I am,

I'm a tree in the forest,

I'm a beast in the field;

There's a bug on my paper,

it resembles eraser dust,

that I make when I error,

and I remove it from sight;

Like a bug in the grass,

diving for the dirt,

as the bird makes a swoop,

looking for a snack;

Thank God I'm not a bug,

and I'm a man instead,

holding a pencil,

writing a poem.