Common Ground With A Mouse...

October 30, 2011
A severed mouse is in the palm of my hands, it’s fighting for life, but “why?” I ask,” if it’s only going to end?”

It struggles to hold on, but for what? It’ll only soon be gone.

Life to it is just another chance, breathing and eating, nothing else it has to be impressed.

It begins to lay silent, slowly depressing it’s cycle of breath, ironically enough it’s a living metaphor, for we’re both on the edge of death.

“Don’t look down,” I said,” there’s nothing to fear. If you believe in the light, then don’t hesitate to disappear.”

“Let go, there’s nothing left to hold on to. Let go or you and I are both through! LET GO, am I the only one who cares enough to even want to hold you?!”

“Your hunter will never come back, I’ll never let you be enslaved. It’ll never come back and try to make you it’s prey, NOT while I’m alive, not on this da**ed day.”

“Breathe, little mouse, breathe and I’ll keep my grip, I’ll keep you until I die, but please don’t let me slip.”

It’s eyes grow distant, it’s tail fades to gray...
It’s body relaxes, as the light leaves it’s face.
In my hands, there once lay a precious life and in my hands, there now resides a grave.





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