It is a fine day to take a walk,
down to the reservoir to take in the scenery,
of fishermen sitting patiently on the banks.
I sit myself down on the bench,
that bench I have always sat on,
since my grandfather took me here when I was just a child.
His ashes are buried beneath me,
as I sit back and watch the two swans that are visiting,
with their batch of cygnets following them eagerly.
I can’t fully believe the term that swans mate for life.
To have to be with the exact same soul for years on end,
until you finally pass away and become one with the earth.
It is a macabre thought to me,
to be married and bound to one person for eternity.
The old ball and chain, a fitting description.
I do not believe in the thing they call love.
It is a ridiculous thought and merely for children,
to keep their vision of the world happy and joyous.
My mother told me not to lie when I was younger,
and yet she would lie to me about the little things in life.
Santa Claus and the tooth fairy, what utter nonsense.
As I circle the reservoir, I notice something.
An unfortunate cygnet that was left behind, one leg missing.
So out of the kindness of my heart, I bend down to caress its soft body…
Then brutally snap its neck so it would no longer be in pain.