Boots - A Child’s Tool of Torture

When the rain stops, I put on my boots.

It was worm-stomping time.

I put on my coat, all ready to go,

to go commit my crime.

Glorified spaghetti noodles rise up -

My rubber boots stomped DOWN!

As I committed my massacre,

I mused if worms could drown.

I tested this in a puddle,

squishing their soft pink heads.

They didn't really react,

so I stomped more instead.

Worms are worms.

Make them squirm.

That's all I have to say.