There lies the weak wildebeest
Lying on the sun-baked ground
Taking it's dying breaths without a sound
Above circle vultures waiting to feast
With wrinkled necks and bulging eyes
And a ravenous appetite
Reeking of their last meals fright
They can no longer wait for their prey to die
So they descend from their lofty perch
On to the poor, agonized beast
Alive and knowing of their feast
It hears every greedy chirp
Of all the vultures' mocking words
Begging for sweet Death to collect its soul
As it is torn apart by vultures young and old
The wildebeest's death has still not yet occurred
It begs and begs "kill me now!"
"Take the pain away you can have me,
As long as you bring the solace of death to me."
The vultures laugh with a vile sound
A sound that echoes through
Filled with cruelty
Darkened by a lack of empathy
An evil sound 'tis true
The vultures tore the creature apart
Stealing every bit of its pure, innocent heart.
-A.S
Credits to Teen Ink website where this poem is published. Please check out Teen Ink and some of my other works on there.
Thanks again to all you guys for reading. Writing has taken me so far and none of it would be possible without you guys.
-Alice
YOU ARE READING
Another Tragic Story
PoetryA collection of the thoughts and feelings I'm too afraid to share. These words are things I see, hear, taste, and feel. These are the words of my life on a page, this is the tragedy I see.
