Dissection EpicA Poem by ScoutYou were free had the fields trees surrounded you water, free to drink from no chains nothing to hold you back danger everywhere but you had a choice, a choice to do what you wanted a full life a head maybe a short one but with those last breaths you would pass away under the open skies breathing fresh air the sounds of life around you you would pass away at home but they took you away imprisoned you in a box you were confused, frustrated did not know where you were or why anyone would do this to you You fall into a deep sleep, one where you feel nothing and yet, it was not death only sleep when you a woke your insides seared with pain your blood boiled, not staying in place your heart's beat slowing, something tugging at everything inside of you They try to end your pain, try to stop you from feeling but they fail and now it feels as though your heart is being ripped out but still you fight, for those pine needle trees clean sweet water green soft grass you fight for the hope you will die under the blue open sky in freedom after a long full life but as you begin to fight, you start to lose something happens a snap and there is no feeling then everything grows dim it was the end but it was not the death of a free being it felt cold, painful, strange these people had taken his freedom, taken his hope away for what? He did not know, to study him, learn from him Why couldn't they just observe the world like he did freely, joyfully the way it appears the way the wind touches your skin lightly on a breezy day smell the flowers the rain on a stormy day and the trees sweet scent to study, observe, appreciate the colors of the world the actions of other creatures the still but wild movement of the earth just to see the world the way it should be seen but these people were blind to it blind because of technology, innovation they only understand the artificial, not the truth so he, under the white walls covered in strange lights with no warmth, passed away as a prisoner but he died with a smile on his face for he knew that he understood the world better than any of those who imprisoned him He experienced true joy comprehending the beauty of our world no the beauty in televesion, cameras the so- called perfect machines but finding the beauty in the imperfection of nature the imperfection that makes it perfect taking his last breaths we watched him sleep the last sleep and at least one of us knew we would never die as happy or knowing true joy as did that poor creature we would always be prisoners always living in the artificial world not knowing true beauty and because of that he died leaving an admirer behind P.S. who thought this would all come from dissecting a live frog ? © 2012 Scout |
StatsAuthorScoutMesa, AZAboutI love writing and reading. It is the best feeling to sit down and write out your feelings in poetry, or imagine a dream world and write a novel. I can not imagine not writing ever, it is like my oxyg.. more..Writing
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