The Grateful Cockroach

The grateful cockroach waits till everyone has left the room,
He is waiting for his inevitable doom -
I think, to subside.
The grateful, he loves to abide,
by anyone's rules but people who look like him,
The grateful cockroach plays the game ,
He has played and has been played, unknowingly.

Stupid, grateful, precious cockroach,
Come out, come out, wherever you are!
They are calling, and calling and calling,
And the cockroach emerges, smile on his face.


He would answer 'yes' in his high pitched voice,
but they can't understand his clicking language full of vowels.
They wouldn't want to anyway.

Look at me, they say, look at me!
He looks.
He sees.
A huge shadow rapidly coming closer and closer and !
The cockroach runs away.
He hides.
He laughs, nervously.

They do this every time.
He can't decide if he hates it, really, because he has known no different.
'Awaken, depth of depth of your soul! '
The grateful cockroach startles....
What is this voice?
It comes ... from deep within?
'You are better than what they make of you.'
And slowly, the grateful cockroach stops being grateful.
It takes a while, he stops being a cockroach,
and in the end.
He is him.