Worm wriggled on the pavement
A dirty grey.
You should be pink
Are you Okay?
I stepped over you
Because you are so small.
Some might think
Because you’re not pink
You don’t matter at all.
But I care.

Seeing you there
Made me halt.
It isn’t your fault
You are a worm
And make people squirm.
Worms are as old as time
So to tread on you
Would be a crime.

The woman behind me with a pram
Won’t give a damn.
She’ll wheel over you
Without a glance.
You won’t stand a chance.
I could alert her to your situation
It might result in conversation,

But she’d think me mad.
I’m really sad, but next time
We’ll meet not in the street,
Perhaps on the wheel of


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