Little blood suckling,

My thumb is plump and red.

You have prevented it from clotting and

Choking the itch out from your sting.

 

Was there anyone else to suck?

No. Only I, who has been struck 

By your hellish juice pump that

Burrowed and pulsated under my skin.

 

I know why you left the swarm for my

Sweet extraction: it was your fantasy.

You nippers are all the same;

Hearing tales from co-workers

Of how good someone tastes.

 

So off you went, to hunt

For my tender pulp, buzzing

To guzzle and fill your belly.

 

And once I've satisfied your hunger,

You can pass on tales of my taste

To other nips as they lick their lips.

 

While they dream of my heart

Pumping that sickly sweet residue,

I will be killing them one by one

To avenge the state of my poor ol' thumb.