• You were minding your own buisness.
    Gathering food, digging around,
    Just doing what your instincts told you.

    I guess it was the law,
    How the food chain works,
    but I still feel bad for you,
    That your last moments,
    were full of fear and agony.

    The crow that was nothing to me
    Must've been like a dragon,
    Swooping in and attacking.
    I only saw a bit of it, your fight and struggle,
    But i saw enough.

    When the black maternal rabbit,
    Her belly round with an unborn litter
    Protected you, I knew that you should've lived.
    I watched your tail twitch and your head
    look around.
    I could see you breathing; alive

    I could not see the gravity of your situation.
    My father grabbed his weapon, a shovel of all things,
    And I screamed "NO!" but he continued on.

    I bounded out the front door,
    Sight blurred by tears,
    And heard a thunk and your death shriek,
    Then there was silence.

    I walked the road,
    Thinking of how you'd suffered,
    Hating my father for killing you,
    Instead of giving you a chance to live.
    I called him murderer, killer, b*****d for destroying you.

    But when my father picked me up,
    And we went for a drive,
    And he told me that the you had been nearly torn to pieces by the crow,
    He said he had to.

    He told me that you carried countless diseases,
    that you were vermin that needed to be killed.
    I told him that humans carry way more diseases
    And asked him if that makes us vermin.

    Then he told me that he didn't want you to suffer.
    He didn't want you to lash out and bite anyone,
    In a fit of dying desperation.

    I understood.
    All I asked was that you got a proper burial.
    Very human of me, I guess,
    To bury the dead.
    Nonetheless, you are at peace now.
    The wounds don't hurt,
    There is no fear for you,
    You can rest now.

    I'm sorry.