By Aditi Karthick
Life was sparked into me,
When I was safe and sound.
Hidden from the world, concealed,
At the core of a shell, white and round.
Out into the world I was laid white and fair,
By the great creator, the mother hen.
I rolled about, here and there,
Until the humans picked me off the chicken pen.
Oh, did I have high hopes,
That I would hatch to be a glorious chicken.
Alas, it was not to be,
As with this fate I was stricken.
Along with my siblings I was piled,
In a carton on the shelf of a store.
“Mommy, I want an omelette for brunch”, said a child,
And added to their shopping cart was one more.
One by one, we were used,
Whipped, squashed, fried.
Mortality was being suffused,
Until it was just me, oh how could I abide?
I got as depressed as I could be,
Revenge spread through my veins just as avenge had.
Evil finally got the best of me,
And I turned completely rotten and bad.
Obviously, the humans had forgotten about me,
A few weeks, months I presume.
I was losing hope of being set free,
Until an old man pulled me out of ultimate doom.
I thought that I would be fried and beaten,
Maybe even put into batter.
But no, I was not to be eaten,
But to be put to use for an even worse matter.
I was carried and carried,
For an egg, pretty rife.
But when I realised my stop was not the kitchen,
I finally understood my purpose in life.
Surrounded by the blaring voice of a public speaker,
And public damage being caused without indemnity.
I was yeeted directly into the air,
Aimed directly at the head of the celebrity.
Need I tell you more?
The end is as good as said.
My end came right then and there,
My grave on the bald head.