Her efforts to move fade pale
She becomes still,
the starving little girl.
The vulture scans and swoops down
But the vulture cannot claw
to make its feast
The starving little girl is alive
She's still, but still breathing
The vulture waits behind her.
He becomes impatient
not to lose the best shot
Calculates light
Measures distance
Vigorously configurates
for a single frame
Changes the lense
Zooms in
He is ready to shoot
He clicked his best shot
He became a hero
for the best photograph
He won a prestigious prize.
But a question arose
How many vultures, there?
One or two?
All agreed being two
The photographer's dead sensibility
bordered onto the vulture in waiting
He too preyed upon like the vulture.
Didn't he?
In the new domain of dead sensibility,
Those who shoot
Care less
Those who amass
Care less
Those dogfighting for power
Care less
Death became a sequel
Oppression causes death
Depression kills no less
In this situation,
Who cares for humanity, then?
hope!
Yes, hope.
It's still alive
Braving not just two vultures
But many vultures all around.
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