I Am The Fly.

Yeah,
I know it stinks,
But I stay.

I’ve grown used to the rot,
Built my home in the pile.
I buzz when they lie,
I cheer when they smile.

I’m a fly.
And this?
This trash is mine.

You see filth,
I see familiarity.
You see corruption,
I see consistency.
Same faces, same games,
At least I know the rules.

New ain't better,
New is risky.
New might clean too much,
Might shake the bin I’m nesting in.

So I stick to what I know.
Vote for what smells familiar.
Trash with a flag on it.
Trash that talks tough.
Trash that makes me feel seen,
Even when it’s rotting.

They tell me:
"Choose better."
But I ask, “Better for who?”
The shiny ones don’t speak my language.
They don’t crawl through what I crawl through.
They want to sweep,
But I live in the corners they want to erase.

So I buzz.
I swarm.
I echo the chants.
I post.
I vote.
I bleed loyalty for leaders who'd never bleed for me.

But still, I follow.
'Cause being a fly means forgetting how to fly.

Means mistaking decay for safety.
Mistaking noise for truth.
Mistaking power for purpose.

You want to clean this up?
You’ll have to start with me.

Because trash don’t just show up,
It’s welcomed.
It’s fed.
It’s protected.

By flies like me.

~chat 😏