The Human Way

There were three pairs of eyes,

A knife, a blood-stained hand,

And a voice that said,

"Slice the throat first."

Brought down and held tight,

By hands that were far stronger than its life,

And the neck was drawn backward,

The body shivered, struggled helplessly,

It was warm, I could tell,

I wondered what value it held,

I heard a naive girl who lived in the village hut,

Called it a friend,

I looked into its eyes and saw fear,

And there were three pairs of eyes,

One scared, one dead, one was mine.

A slash, and a scream,

And then there was silence,

As the blood flowed freely,

And pooled down into the bucket,

I saw life drain slowly out of its eyes,

A fearful haze cast upon them,

The warmth of its breath turned as cold as my heart,

The scent of its death filled my nostrils,

I painted my hands in red and smiled.

So warm, so full of life...

It would make a great meal tonight.

That evening I carried its pieces,

Packed in a black plastic bag,

And its eyes lay somewhere in the trash,

I made sure to walk by the house of the girl,

The one who called it a friend,

I showed her the bag and laughed,

She cried, horrified,

Though It was alright,

A few years is all it would take,

For her to learn the human way.