and I am squashed.
Well, I say squashed,
but only because the other ants
are pressing in on me.
"This harvest must succeed,"
they say,
"Do your part!"
I guess they feel squashed, too.
If I were honest, though,
I've never known a shoe:
that suffocation,
then crushing,
then one less ant.
I am not squashed.
It's just another day at the ant hill,
and the world is only bigger than ever before.
I am yet smaller, but I live,
unsquashed.
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