Squashed To Bits

I clung to the mast as hard as I could with all six of my barbed legs. The breeze in my face made me feel insecure and threatened to knock me off. I gazed about the boat and saw more of my kind, each clinging just as I was. When the ship finally struck shore, we flew, revealing the red beneath our spotted white wings and taking flight as we searched our new home. It was promising, with many trees to suck sap from. Promising, it was, until the first boot stomped. The genocide had begun.