Solitude would have feasted
On my sanity had it not been
For a colorful book about
A very hungry caterpillar.
As I consumed its tale of gluttony,
The caterpillar feasted on the maggots
That gnawed on my parietal lobe.
This fictional creature, constructed
From bright scraps of tissue paper,
Saved me from a life of madness.
A. J. Hayes
Give a poet a pen