Shark Tale

Your untimely death would’ve served

As cataracts within our eyes;

Verifying our idealized view,

Endorsing our biased outlook,

Manifesting our nostalgic feelings

Of your hidden, feigned character.

Had quietus bestowed itself on you

We would have mourned a façade,

Wasting steady buckets of tears,

Bawling and crying over you;

The model self-righteous predator

Who used disease as a crutch.

Burial would’ve concealed your plans

Devised in your mind for many years;

To chisel away our many successes,

Seeking revenge for our existence,

Because of your reckless jealousy

Of the biological creation you spawned.

Your survival enabled us to feel

The powerful spark of your hatred,

Existing in your psyche genetically,

Making us know your true nature,

While you are alive instead of being

Blinded in hindsight by your death.

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