The tale of morning worm

Death adorns life. It’s a jewel crown on a rather marred and ridiculously imperfect living body. My body of a worm. I know my extensions. There are none. And that’s how I could have got crushed by these hundreds of screeching tires on this outrageously hot concrete road. Or say I wanted to burn myself.

I may be a stupid little worm but I had faith. Faith in something I can’t say. The day I learnt these leaves, these mellow petals of these flowers I love so much are always on a brink to leave me, I died.

No matter then, some sparrow ate me or these leaves themselves, I wanted to die and I died.

It’s disheartening though, to see everything falling down. My little eyes don’t comprehend the ugly face of treason. But when I am put in the light and when I’m made to write testimonials which even go against me, I feel granulated. The tiny legs one side, the tiny chest other. That’s how you killed me.

I am a worm. I may not matter to you in your existence. I may not even be counted in the list of good things you put your eyes upon but my three hearts looked at you and the juxtaposition it stated was beyond my control. The worm wanted to live by your side. Out of all the leaves and petals and seeds, it chose you.

The worm might have died by this time. It might have an unfinished story. The three hearts might have been humiliated to death. The only answer lied in your unanswered calls.