Today I saw a fly.
A poor little housefly
writhing in utter agony
on my kitchen counter. 

Blended into the black stone,
knock off onyx,
invisible but for an incessant
and futile buzzing. 

I stood there and
watched it struggle.
Its enormous eyes crying
tiny housefly tears. 

I felt like a farmhand
preparing to put down a
prized steed, simply because it
had outlived its usefulness. 

A solemn little creature
screaming into a void
deprived of hope
deprived of dignity. 

I whispered a prayer while
crushing it under my bare
thumb. I could have sworn that
as it left for heaven, it whispered back.