By Anachrony (Just a Poem)
And when I shoot animals, I don’t aim for the head.
I aim for the neck,
So I can watch it die.
I can watch the dog bleed tears, mucous and spit.
Watch it whimper,
As it loses breath.
Watch it writhe.
Watch it try to escape but cannot because it’s too weak and tied up.
Watch it beg for death as I wait a while longer to make it suffer.
And still put another bullet in its head,