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The Mosquito
As I lay on my towel, soaking up the sun,
sunscreen on my body, hair up in a bun,
a buzzing noise came about,
flying in my ear, zipping in and out.
I waved my hand up, down, and around my head,
hoping that the mosquito would soon be dead.
“Go away,” I said, “No one wants you here!”
Then the mosquito whispered something so soft, I almost didn’t hear.
Quoth the mosquito, ”Disease is near."
I ran inside, no time to lose.
I slammed the door and grabbed a fly swatter to use.
I thought I was safe, I thought I was in the clear.
I then looked to my right and found the mosquito near my ear.
Quoth the mosquito, “Disease is near."
I started to hit myself all about,
trying to get the mosquito to fly out.
I pleaded and screamed with the greatest fear,
but to no surprise, the mosquito would not disappear.
Quoth the mosquito, “Disease is near!"
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This poem is a parody of "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe