Left of The Murder

-Left of The Murder-
by
Keaton Foster



Upon the line
Upon the wire
Across the razors edge
Always willing to die
Always fighting to survive
Left of the murder
Upwind or down
All a matter of perspective
Scavenging off scavengers
Feeding off the remains
Of all that they cannot change
Predictable birds of flight
Every damn one of them
Killers be kind
Leave something behind
Is what they whisper upon the wind
Other animals faithfully oblige
Their own guts ache in excess
Reluctantly they offer scraps
A vicious cycle of give and take
Such an eternal masterpiece
Of both creation and destruction
Ascension is both king and god
Rising up when escape is justified
Falling down to the feast
Either without the risk of injury
When our own gullets are full
We return to our state of grace
Left of a murder
A group of beings
Many of them the same
Few dare betray their shape
Few dare stand up
For something different
I am unlike all of them
We are of the same species
But that is where everything stops
Their soulless eyes shine
My soulless eyes show no life
Their darkened coats bleed true
Mine blends in with the reality
Of all the choices that I’ve made
There are some others like me
Those who dare to be different
They are part of their own murder
Down the line, in another time
The only common tie between us all
Is that both them and I will die
Left of the murder
Is where I stand
Upon the line
Upon the wire
Across the razors edge…



Left of the Murder
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012.