As I age, my mind opens wide
and my heart softens so much
that I can no longer bear to see,
hear, or read on a page what
takes place around the world.
I can no longer squash a bug
or even spray to keep them
away. Am I a traitor to my
race by believing insects have
as much right to live as we?
When I think of a cow’s
round brown eyes looking at
me without an evil thought, to
eat a pieceof her meat in my
aged mind is an unforgivable sin.
If she only knew someone like
me would cut her throat and
butcher her and her babies for
meat to eat, the look in her
eyes would surely change.
I begin to think that anything
alive should be allowed to live
out its life without interference
from the likes of me; and now when
I even pull a weed, I tell it, “I’m sorry.”
Is it right for so many lives to be taken
so I can survive? If I were to design a
world of my own, there would be no
need to kill and eat other living things.aging > animals > poetry > vegetarian