Imagine a fly, buzzing, eyes pointed in all directions, searching
 
As it swoops down a sweet plum, delighting in the opportunity to feel full
 
Imagine a small child, running across the floor, sock feet sliding across the wood
 
As he splats that fly with a swatter, wings breaking, life ending, blood and guts splatter
 
A fly that will fly no more, a boy who will **** again. And a fruit that is spoiled by violence.
 
Imagine a squirrel, scampering down from a tree, pinecones secured in his furry cheeks
 
He has enough. He has even more than enough. As he rushes off to cross the street, happy.
 
Imagine that same boy. Or a different boy. Or girl. It doesn’t really matter. 
 
Driving a car, speeding, feeling free as he feels the thump thump thumping of his tires running over the world.
 
And then splat. The boy does not stop. The squirrel stops forever. The pinecones are ****** in blood.
 
Imagine the boy again. Sitting on the couch. Eating the ribs of another animal. As he shoots and shoots at unknown targets. The bodies disappearing as the game finally ends.
 
And then imagine it isn’t a game. And the boy is so angry. He doesn’t know why. And that makes it worse.
 
He is not heartless, his heart has been broken. His soul darkened. As the bodies hit the floor, and someone screams.
 
As victimizers become victims, and the victims pile higher. As everything around is spoiled by violence. 
 
Imagine a world without violence, imagine it if you can.