Barely the Same Species
You have the soul of an herbivore, Bill.
You follow the herd into work every day,
And you toil exactly as ruminants graze:
Slowly, unceasingly, hours on end.
Your thoughts are the herd's. You don't
Analyze anything. If any bell cow sets
Off, so will you. I have no idea whether
You like your life. Perhaps you don't know
If you do.
I, on the other hand, live like a predator,
Acting in spasms, long rests in between,
During which I'm observing your fellows,
The herd. I'm looking for weakness,
For times I should strike. I analyze
Everything. I am alone, and, as such,
I am vulnerable, also unhappy, as
Predators typically are.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
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Written on 2023-11-15 at 00:50
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