Through the dark and curly black,
He eased himself through the hair
That strew itself over skin so tender
A slight tickle, warmth I felt
As he waded through the moisture; searching
For that hole through which he shall pierce
The hole that shall sustain him and his kind
All of a sudden, he stood still
My heart skipped a beat; this was it
A second later he was in my hand
I did not let him pierce - relief
Instead, I felt him in my hand
Throbbing with life
Another second and there he lay dead
Bleeding my own blood; helpless
On the white speckled with black
Amongst the rest of the dead lice.
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