Slimy, slithering, and hideous, she was a caterpillar,
Grouped with the other infants, she was never a killer.
Hence, less grub-like than she, they coiled around her body,
Brutally choking her until her saliva was muddy and frothy.
Without circulation, her blood lost its vital heat,
Unbeknownst that to frost, it was to face defeat.
The larvae swarmed upon their peer, a bookworm,
Using matches to make the unsightly child burn.
As the benevolence beneath the exterior was trodden,
The odd caterpillar begged only to be forgotten.
Poem and photograph are the exclusive creations and property of Ami J. Sanghvi.