surviving the odds

and still making my stand



Saturday, August 14, 2010

on my sister's car ride back, my whole mind is filled with the conflicts among the seniors. how could things have gone so bad; why are some people so stubborn; why some people just cannot tolerate; what could have been done; what can be done..

but the moment i opened the door to alight. i was overwhelmed.

a dead mynah.

i shrilled.

then we realised something horrible happened to it. how could anyone could have been so cold-hearted. so brutal to a living thing. it was such a contrast to my every conscious attempts to pick up snails during rainy days from being crushed under the the feet of those quick-rhythmed blind souls. and to think i used my paddle to send a floating snail, still alive, from the waters onto the nearest soil i could get it to.

i could not figure out how and why a metal coil, you know those that you use to bunch up keys, was pierced through the poor bird's throat and beak. oh wait. it wasnt just A COIL. it was multiple coils. i prayed, one of these rare situations that i do other that before an examination, very very deeply that it had already been dead by the time the abuser had found it. but i know it's most likely just my own wishing thinking. can you believe my eyes blurred? i couldnt help but think how effing pain it felt and the helpless-ness it was undergoing with every volume of blood it lost. it's like stapling your mouth with a charcoal in your oral cavity. hmph.

the nightmare didnt just end here. the mynah's feet was tied with nylon such that it couldnt escape. tied so tightly that perhaps its hollow bone, supposed to be advantageous by being light for its flight, was long fractured like a dried twig.

educated and civilised as we may be. we're still as cruel as we were 3000 years ago. sad. humans havent grown up. you just gotta admit it. somewhere within us, there exists a violence trigger. just like how you can never tame a wild animal. aint it?



All the sleepless nights;
and the tears you cry
at 11:40 PM










clawedwretch
she’s not here, she’s not there.
and she neither stays nor does she hide






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