As the fly lay there
convulsing,
I watch over him
as if I were God.
Watching it
slowly die
is definitely an
unreal feeling.
It signals me
with it's foot
as if to tell me
to put it out of
its miserey.
Now I'm stuck
with a damn
moral choice.
Not what I expected
from a simple
cigarette break.
I pick up my
right foot
and let it hover
over the tortured fly
and after some contemplation,
I put my foot back down.
I'm too tender hearted
to kill a living organism.
I think,
'Close your eyes
and die in piece,
the way I would like
to go.'
Not much longer
for any of us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That is life, Raymond. It goes on and on