Monday a pigeon falls
Just an ordinary pigeon,
Did his work, ate his bread
Lived a life of labour
Now, breathing laboured
lies limp, broken wings
The kind men all gather around it
Sympathy on their faces
They take it in their hands
Cursing such untimely ends
Stroking its head, stroking their own
They pass it around,
Soothing it, soothing themselves
Until it reaches the hand of a devil,
Tears in his eyes,
He breaks the pigeons neck
Wednesday, if another pigeon falls
Everything will be fine
For, on tuesday,
The kind men broke the devil’s spine
-KS
08.06.26
This is inspired by misinterpretation of the work of a really cool person I recently met











