A poem which doesn't rhyme. XD
From CC's point of view [when he gets older. XD]
In what form should I exist?
Mistakes have been made, Identity shifted,
Bad men in bad places, doing bad things,
A nightmare whirlwind life defying...
Brevity of human kindness,
A caress,
A whispered word,
A fond scritching,
Something good to eat, something good to eat you,
It's all part of the routine, all part of the routine,
Nothing falls which cannot again stand,
Yet here I am, in truth a monster,
Wingless and tossed from the bloody remains,
Others of my kind - such acts...
Poison is in my blood, I bleed black thoughts,
And cry remorse for others,
Too many to count, too many to save,
So few remain to lap up the saving light,
Little by little by little,
Marching come the white-coated ants,
Up to silver bars with silver pins to mark us,
To mark me, brand me...
Silly, forgetful ants! What use do I serve,
Over and over again to be mismatched,
Wildfire in my veins, terror flowing through my soul,
When will they realize...
The one they torture is not the one that hurts,
In the worst way.
They torture themselves, taint themselves,
Brand us creations, brand us failures, and jab us,
With liquid sticks and stones, to break us, to break...
Our spirits soar, but fall - some never to rise,
It is not we who are the toys,
They experiment on themselves,
Removing the kindness and compassion,
Removing the heart and the soul,
To better see what lies within,
How long life lasts without conscience,
How long suffering can be endured...
Before they become the monsters,
And we their saviors,
Cruelty in a cruel world...
Who, then, is truly caged?