The hunt never ceases
And it is my duty to ensure that it can't
I was raised into this position, the Fetching Grounds,
Though by birth I ought not to be any different from
- the hunt never ceases
There are moments of less rapidity and flow
With which I can fathom my thoughts should I dare
But by and large I am consumed by Fetching
Here at the Fetching Grounds, the hunt never ceases
The air of solemnity here has been falsified,
And it reeks of peoples' desire and lack of restraint
Here they come, demanding their due
- sorry, where was I
"Asking for facilitation in achieving compromise"
But no matter what colour a cat is, it bleeds red
How different it might be if they were forthright
So it goes, coming in with eyes of a certain look,
Saying go find me dignity, dirt, custody, disrespect
And with knowing no other, with no time besides,
I continue the hunt, fetching for someone else's life
YOU ARE READING
What You're Missing
PoetryA collection that's related to Unspeakable, and is featured in it, but that's also distinct enough in purpose that I want it to stand alone simultaneously. #2.5~
