Bloody hands
cursed is my name
day after day, I slit
throats of goats
and little chicks
haunted by their eyes
haunted by their pain
where shall I go
to become a man again?
brute killing brute
condemned is my life
But I need food
for my wife to survive.
You sit on gleaming glass tables
under glimmering chandeliers
saying "i didn't kill them
it was the butcher"
2 comments:
I found it very emotive Shruti..nice rendition of an occupational hazard. It evokes pity.
it's meant to evoke more than pity... it's meant to evoke self questioning, a look at the sociey who drives the butcher to do this, and yet blames the butcher for doing it, self complacently eating at their glass tables...
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