The Fly and The Pitcher Plant

THE FLY AND THE PITCHER PLANT

The pitcher plant is a clever little thug,
Beautifully green and shaped like a mug.
It's insides lined with tiny little hairs
Pointed downwards, like spiralling stairs.

At the bottom of the pitcher is an amorous gel
Giving off such an alluring smell.
But to a little fly passing by
It's a gel that ensures the insect will die.

This is a plant not of my imagination,
But is real and one of nature's concoctions
To ensure the pitcher will continue to survive.
But what about the fly...will it still be alive?

Along it buzzes and is drawn to the smell
Unaware it's beginning a journey to hell.
The sweet, sickly taste it just can't resist
"It's just delightful," the other flies insist.

I'll have a little taste....oh it's so good!
I've even forgotten the need for food.
I'll go down a little further to get me some more.
Oh this sickly syrup I could come to adore.

Ok, that's enough, I'm begining to sway.
Oh, what's that? A hair in my way.
Oh well, I might as well go on.
(I'm getting the feeling something is wrong).

I slide down the pitcher now in glee.
But what is that at the bottom I see?
Other flies, bathing in the slimey muck.
Bathing.....or are they stuck?

Their bellies are so full of the sweet, sinister stuff.
It seems like their life is getting a bit rough.
But I'll be fine, I know when to stop.
(But just a little more of this delictable drop).

I look up at the mouth of the pitcher
As the feeling in my belly's getting richer and richer.
But I know when to stop, I'm in total control
Unlike the others, whose eyes are beginning to roll.

I look up at the mouth of this devious thing.
I can't remember how I got in.
"Just a little more friggin syryp!" I shout.
Now I realise...............I've forgotten the way out.