I am the god of the anthill
The king of dust mites
Emperor of microbes.
I wear a crown of filth,
A robe of rubbish,
And hold a scepter of grime.
And despite it all
I grin through tears
For at least I still am royal.
Sweet Son of Paradox
Posted by Prester John Saturday, November 29, 2008 at 10:00 PM