I don’t go hunting,
Why kill animals?
Even killing people feels wrong,
Let alone killing animals.
I put on comfortable shoes,
Grab a camouflage jacket,
A little bit of marijuana
And a couple of patties that Mom fried.
Hey, tigers, want some free weed?
And they slowly come closer.
They’re not afraid of me,
And I don’t kill them.
We smoke marijuana,
And the tigers look friendlier,
They roll in the grass,
Like cats, bellies up.
Then evening comes,
And I head home.
I tell the tigers:
Come back tomorrow, it’ll be fun!
They politely nod
And wave their clawed paws.
Then I open my eyes
And see familiar walls.
And I’m no longer seventeen,
And Mom doesn’t fry patties anymore,
And tigers are dangerous predators,
And the world makes war, not love.
Tigers And Weed
© Copyright: Максим Черноморченко, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125051802905
Свидетельство о публикации №125051802905
Рецензии