Under the blue sky, the sun shining through
I wait weak and weary.
Tethered to a pole, I do have a clue
Of a fate set for me.
Deprived of a choice, time to bid adieu
There’s no way out, you see.
But my death brings hope, for there are those who,
Despite not so many,
Care for us and fight our own battle.
Who is “us”, you ask.
“Us” desires to live, a plea overdue;
Yet your atrocity
To us meek beings,
Whose deaths you don’t rue,
Lives on till now, sadly.
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