The bitch was overdue. br No vet could be afforded br and the cries were growing, br ever louder, it was high time. br The oldest boy assumed, br with such an air of competence, br today's authority, he wiped away br the doubts of everyone, and lit br a cigarette that smelled so sweet, br then pulled out of his pocket a flask, br all shiny stainless steel, a mirror br perhaps of post-pubescent soul? br br They all were guilty to the third degree. br And should have stopped him then, br before he killed them all, except the one. br But, no one had the guts to take the job br and not a single sound was heard br in protest of the bloodless slaughter. br His nicotine-stained fingers were, br that night, the forceps, used to maim br and kill, but not with kindness, no. br br It was indifference that had befallen br and made its bed inside his mind, br he only had to lean into the down br to gather strength again and to go on br from deeds of misadventure to the awe br of being free to take your own sweet life br and hold it out to dry its melancholy tears, br and then, so near the end let go of it br and watch it flutter with uncertainty, br and with the grimace of despair, so brave br into its pre-ordained oblivion, after all. br br The one survived and lived to see the day br when they took flowers to his marble stone, br if dogs could read we would now know br what all those golden letters said, br though there are times where, for us all br our lips must both stay stiff and also silent.