The Killer - Poem by Joe Graves
our friend the killer
the black sheep of the family, but indeed family.
we need the killer, but hate his face
he is nesacary, but we will not acknowledge him.
he brings forth new life, but in it we do not recognize the dead.
he brings fertility, and makes us hippocrites.
we leave the door open for him and give him quarter,
but ask that he is gone before sunrise as to not see him.
we rejoice in his gifts, but condemn his actions.
a provider in which we dare not look in the face.
taken for granted, life devours life.
you are the killer
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