There is a bug crawling on me.
I know it is there. 
I've heard horrible things about them, what they can do.
Yet, I leave it be, maybe it is more scared of me than I am of it.
Maybe it is cute, innocent, worthy of my time.
I let it stay. Perhaps I could get used to it.
At times it itches.
It wriggles and squirms and confuses me.
It's not until too late that I realise it is dangerous.
I pry and pull but it sinks in it's claws.
I do not want it there anymore, but it will not leave.
It drains my brain, my thoughts are consumed. I am tired.
There is a parasite crawling on me.
I want it gone.