Carnivore Poem by Jeff Rushton
Carnivore
Sadistic, we wait for our next serving.
Served on a plate, never what we want.
Never what we need, aimlessly willing to concede.
Pain is the pleasure, the abyss of sorrow and pity we pay ourselves.
Respect is why we bleed, it is easier to receive than to inflict.
Inflict is all we see, does it ever end anywhere but me?
Is it better to end a cycle, dead, or live a life running in circles?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 12:35:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
