Carluke High School: Graeme Fleming




In the centre of a road lies the temple of decay
Spread across the ground,
All black and brown and bloody with gore
Fur, matted with the colour of the setting sun
Setting not on the day, but on a life.

The husk is broken, shattered, destroyed
From it rises the unbearable stench of Life
Taken away too early.
By a twisted fate, who laughs maniacal
And diabolical at such things as pity and mercy.

This thing, this tiny, strange, pitiful and broken thing.
Three feet lie shattered, another away from the rest
Its eyes, fading orbs, look at this catastrophe in such disbelief
That can be matched only by its agony
Slowly fade of light as its soul flees.

It mews to me quietly, crying for a guardian angel
Who has turned its back.
I look at it and see little more than a glorified rat,
What was once a hunter is now destroyed,
Stripped of its breath, its flesh, and its dignity.

The last of its sounds, its empty, dying words
Echoing its pain and fear –
Why do I deserve this? Why must I die?
Is it because whatever decides the fate of man and beast alike
Is unjust, and views life as nothing more than a plaything?

Or is it because this cat was the runt of the litter
Tiny, fearful, different
Unlike the others.
Unlike the rest.
And that - was that the reason, it was plucked from its life too early?

As the cataclysmic peace of death
Takes it from the blissful chaos of life,
I walk by, hand in hand with Indifference.

by Graeme Fleming