THE CYCLE

I sliced off its head,

glory in my eyes,

strength in my veins.

 

With a shovel in my hands,

I struck the bone.

No stopping there,

it must be done.

 

It squirmed and squiggled,

Oh, no more will it slither!

 

But now I watch

as another creature,

this one so sweet,

is caught in your jaw,

shaken to the feet.

 

I cry out,

seeing the pain in its dark oval eyes,

But what can I do?

What can I do?

 

You leave it be,

On the grass,

I come closer,

Seeing its short breathe.

 

In its face,

I see its horror,

This is it.

Death is no longer dormant.

 

I coddle it close,

in my hands,

weeping for the soul,

life has been abandoned.

 

An act so similar,

did these hands once commit?

They hold him now,

innocent.

 

What is the difference

between you and I really?

We created a loss for our gain.

And took it so easily.

 

Are we just small parts to be played

in this functioning machine,

fueling the cycle,

is that what life is to be?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s