Small and soft she quivers in my palm,
She is a free thing,
Not to be contained.
Yet,
Not yet,
I hold her a little tighter.
I take pleasure in this guilt,
I think,
What if I snap a leg?
What if I squeeze so tight I pop a head?
Countless ways to kill…
To express my pain through her suffering!
I envy her freedom,
She’s free from thoughts,
Strictly survival,
No choices; no decisions,
No bills, just bliss…
Fly then,
"Leave me as you would!”
By all that is natural,
The subtlest truth,
With all she knew,
She flew.
