A new morning, and a new art,
another bull and the pathos start.
It’s time for year’s spring,
and for a bull to be killed in the ring.
Time for people to feast,
and he to be again fleeced.
He is coerced into a game,
where the fate always remains the same.
Whatsoever happens it’s him to lose,
Every time it’s him in the noose.
Days before the event starts,
his trainers begin to train him hard.
Not to turn him in victory,
but to bid world the valedictory.
A game which is claimed to be ‘just’,
But in reality, everything’s in the dust.
Jelly blurs his only light,
Hunger dissolves all his might,
Hacksaw steals his only weapon,
Darkness confuses him, ‘what’s gonna happen?’
Then suddenly the door opens,
Ah! At last he is free.
But how long that’s still the question,
Answer to which is Matador’s gestion.
Inside him a new hope rises,
He follows his heart’s advice.
“Run! Run! run away from here,
Life’s waiting outside there.“
Eyes shining, legs running away,
But then death eaters crosses his way.
Gave him a crooked smile,
Taking his dream away by a mile.
Three acts planned for him,
Each inherits brutality to brim.
One after another the acts take place,
Each passing second slows down his pace.
By now he is bleeding profusely,
And over there the crowd cheers amusedly.
He fights there all alone and weak,
In the hope that at last someone will speak.
But at a place where blood makes the day,
Sorry! Today humanity is astray.
Then comes one last blow,
And he falls down on the floor.
“ Then what?”
-Nothing.
Next time, a different bull,
and a different ground.
Thanks For reading!
