melting under the glass
magnifying sunlight,
seen by so many as great.
why i decided to kill
those poor ants
going about their day,
human condition cannot explain;
why we are all so silent about pain
in the dark ditches of our neighbors' land,
where the families of ants huddle and cry.
why my friend and i decided to kill
those poor ants going about their day:
complications made too plain.
when we grow our brains,
we watch them burst.
busy thoughts on busy streets,
of this medium town,
empty by night,
when there's nothing to do.
i cry too
though i don't feel their pain:
what a burden am i,
what a fake.
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