As I lay in the cool grass,
Voices enter my consciesness.
I pretend I am somewhere else,
I dread the evening,
When the vultures come and feed.
I can see them all now,
With their pale hairy skin,
Coming to rip and tear at the rotting flesh.
Their bellies bulge with vileness,
Their mates all bloated with fear.
They teach their offspring to copy,
So they have shiney red villains.
How beautifully the river sparkles,
But is smirched by their disgustingness.
When will they learn?
Never, I expect.