stamped out

I leave a trail of insect corpses
on scratched floors–
the bodies of innocents.
I knew how innocent they were
when they invaded my space,
but some deep aggression in me
pressed me to kill them,
crush their little stink bug bodies
against books, jars, teaspoons.
I often wonder if there is a murderer
inside of all of us.
I am a bug murderer
because they make me afraid
and fear must be stamped out.