Today we are sitting ducks in a pond that can no longer bear fish for us to eat. Our wings are broken, it is their fault. We want to leave, but we cannot. Some time ago it's fish they brought, but violence came without a thought. And so they came to hate the pond, they said it brought misfortune. And so the pond came to hate them back, it said it was their fault. We are the objects of which they argue over. I thought we could coexist, the pond, the ducks, and them, but if we are to war, i'd like to choose sides. We are the victims of unfortunate events. Both sides hate each other because of us, both would like to give us benefit while hurting the other, but this simply cannot be. No matter how dull the knife, we will always bleed. Everyone will bleed. Once we tried to escape, but it only broke us further. Now we don't move, paralyzed in our fright as we wait for the end, as we wait for the night.
