The beast tried to run away but now is squatted on the ground,
Desperate it tries to howl but what comes out is just blood,
With fangs and claws they are ripping off its skin,
They are displaying satisfied a sardonic grin.
While wresting its flesh, humans they claim to be,
Killing the beast, they say is setting the world free,
Bound in chains it lies dreaming to the last breath,
But they won't listen to its despairing cries for a sudden death,
Because the beast is accused of defiance,
Being different - maybe was made with the Devil a compliance.
Lacerating its bruised skin with their crooked teeth,
The beast is wailing, blood gushing from underneath,
Its body turning to a mass of broken bones and slaughtered flesh,
The painful cry extinguish willing to shape a start afresh,
But the poor soul hangs by a thread,
Its eyes are dry, the blood had been shed.
A fact between human and beast,
For which the death of the innocent is a reason to feast,
Someone really owns the power over other's life?
Condemning to the cleave by the knife,
To the humiliating march of mercy accompanied the melody of the fife.