Oh hello <br />I am chick <br />Look at me <br />The chicken out of egg <br />Not of yours, you dummy <br />Of the hen hatched in machine. <br />Do you recall your childhood you cried: <br />Mommy, dad, “I want chick, ” <br />Yellowish and colored <br />Bunch of us in a box <br />All squeezed <br />Dumb were <br />We; sure <br />Was I <br /> <br />Let’s go back <br />I am chick in colors <br />Yellowish and whitish <br />Rosy cock sticking out on head <br />Chicken that you claim knows nothing <br />What I do, as you say is instinct <br />I swear you are wrong <br />I know more; you <br />Blind to a lot <br />I know cat <br />With tail <br />Raised <br />Back <br />Is… <br /> <br />Did you think? Do you know? No! Never! <br />You do not! The mankind is devil. You <br />Also is their kind, another one of men <br />Those who Changed cats’/dogs’ life <br />Relation; they both now sleeping <br />In same room; together, both <br />Eating in same bowl; and <br />Sleep in one bed. <br />Cat likes fish; catching birds <br />Dog hunter; as are wolves <br />Friendly with your kind <br />You have messed <br />Mixed them all <br />You feed cat <br />With dead <br />Fish and <br />A bird <br />That <br />You <br />… <br /> <br />Oh man kind you are dumb and so dumb that claim knowing more. <br />Stupid and brute you took mom and her warmth; replacement you <br />Made a machine, stepmom where I live next to it till I die. Either <br />By laying eggs or for meat; the distance I can walk all my life <br />Birth to death where my blood pours in funnel, collected to <br />Become a sausage for your meal, limited, it is a few miles; <br />Never seek, never search, never work, then my muscles <br />Remain soft like cotton. I am chick and I know much <br />More than the instinct as you say! You selfish; you <br />Are mean; dishonest, brutal with claims to skies <br />With no end; so happy am I of my short life. <br />Not to see more of you, you dummy you <br />Are blind to the heart; prison is greed. <br />I observe. You’re digging the grave. <br />Your brain empty; like balloon. <br />Then your hands are shovels <br />And are picks and are <br />The delves and the <br />Blinds to some <br />Light in the <br />Winter day <br />So short<br /><br />Nassy Fesharaki<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/chick-3/
