Ants accumulated by my back door. What was I supposed to do? Throw them a picnic? I sprayed them with glass cleaner.
The way they scurried,
soaked in burning poison,
filled me with REAL REGRET.
I’m flawed. It was rash in retrospect.
A giant foot could fall from the sky and stomp a mud hole on me and all of the karma in the universe would be restored.
Beware of the lazy decision— it could come back like a pack of hell-bent ghost-ants to haunt you.