Maggot

look at the maggot
crawling across the ground
surely in search
for a new corpse
or bit if death
some believe you to be a pest
some may even eat you
but you crawl/squirm along
without worry
without fear
your body
a slick small white noodle
of sorts
you have no face, eyes
or distinguishable parts
yet how do you live
I see you move
does death uphold your existence
you are vulnerable
yet you are not meek
strange your life is
life among the dead
and I believe that you
may have some power
over the living
feasting on the dead
when they are at their weakest
as the pages of the future turn
I too will become one of your meals
with happiness lost
but as I stand
I am strong
and you are weak
I crush you with a single finger tip
now see you have become the bit of death
so that your kind feast
upon sure this is an ironic
turn of fate
oh feaster of the dead
oh no
you will not feast upon me
not this body
not now