KILLING

Every morning he smiles...
His mother waves back as he leaves the house
after having had his good breakfast
before or after brushing his teeth.

He holds in his hands with care...
her hands that tremble as she looks at him.
His eyes make promises like eyes of men.
His arms full of manhood too...
Dying to embrace, but shying away.

He enters and greets everyone...
Everyone shakes his promising hand.
She looks at him with all respect...
Passing from there with coffee in hand.

He comes back home to a wagging tail...
And a hairy bundle of selfless love.
Two eyes that look at him with hope...
He might concede some more cookies.

All this cut short with one stroke...
It's called killing... And it's not easy.