u/takenby7seven

I am the pig, you are the master.

You'll feed me everyday,

Let me sleep soundly.

Clean all that malodorous waste,

And wake me up with leftovers in haste.

You'll hit me when I smother,

Whatever that's in my mouth to your legs.

Because one day after that everyday,

You will slaughter me.

Sell my whatever for profit.

You will chop me as a butcher does,

And hang me on display, at the walls.

-

You are the pig, I am the master.

I'll feed you everyday,

Let you sleep soundly.

Fatten up your chin,

And glutton you from within.

You shall live like a king everyday;

Eating cooked food and absolute good hay.

Drinking water from the filter,

Snuggling in sheets from a quilter.

You'll love it when I give you daisies..

The one's from the gardens of the lazies.

I'll treat you with love and care.

So, one day when you dare,

To die of the days that come in old,

I shall rejoice in slaughtering you..

when the nights go cold.

Just a day before you die,

Often, these opportunities do arrive.

So, I shall kill..

This pig, who lived as a king from within.

It should be sold for the finest of golds.

—takenby7seven

These days, I always seem to turn my head away.

Facing the opposite direction. Anywhere, and anything, no matter who approaches or interacts, my attention is somehow always directed to that.... one tree outside the window, the person ahead, the green hills, my shoes, the floor, the ground beneath my feet and my very own legs which.. tremble uncontrollably. Even my hand seems to shake whenever I let it still.

'Why does such a thing ever happen?'

I often exclaim to myself.

And I'm often concerned about this, because, my hand is different. My right hand, to be precise, can hold a spoon, write, pet stray dogs and shake hands with friends! In fact, it can do much more than all this too! While cooking, I use it to stir fry the vegetables, and hold the onions whenever I cut them in a chopping board.

It can do so much work. It's very diligent, and flexible too! But why does it seem to tremble and shake without reason when it's free, and resting?

With this hand, I helped up a clumsy friend. With this hand, I donated money to a pitiful beggar. With this hand, I can do almost everything.

If someone told me to suddenly use my left hand, I'd absolutely be bamboozled!

How am I supposed to use my left hand to write when my entire life, I used my right to do so?

(This monologue contains lots of metaphors and symbolisation. In fact, the entire monologue is a metaphor to some that is.... A secret. Maybe try interpreting it in whatever you think it is)

I've recently realised that most posts in this community are just about love, a girl, an ex or something closely related to it. It's not like I hate it or anything, but don't we have anything else to write about except love?

Please don't take this to heart, I'm only expressing my opinions here.

EDIT: I'm referring to romantic love btw

You've seen all of the cruelty and harshness the world holds. It's ugly, horrendous and feels absolutely terrible.

You've learnt and know so much. You know about the concept of respect, forms of love, definition of life, window of ambitions and so on.

You know that in life, one has to endure some suffering of their own; be it immensely agonising or, just a pinch of tremendous hurt.

You do everything you can to make your day better, not letting your temper or overwhelming thoughts claim you.

You promised yourself that you'd never shed tears without genuine reason. You promised to become strong, give direction to the lost and strength to the fainthearted. Yet today, you cried. Well, who wouldn't? When people go out of their humble way to make your own day worse, anyone will cry.

But, you've already felt the distasteful pint of humiliation on your tongue. It always sizzles and bubbles inside your tummy. It's absolutely disgusting. Gross. Not stomachable. Your belief and conviction towards yourself have rotten into degraded scraps. It's malodorous.

Your humanity has worn out in others' eyes. You aren't a person, you are an animal. You are livestock to be eaten, a pet to be played with, and an awkwardly trotting roach.

You endured all this until now. Endured until you also began to see them as helpless dogs and gluttonous pigs; an ant to be squashed by your indifferent foot in motion.

"You've endured. You've known how cruel the world can be when seen through teary eyes. Yet, why do you still cry?"

"I cry because crying is the only thing I can do."

— takenby7seven

You've seen all of the cruelty and harshness the world holds. It's ugly, horrendous and feels absolutely terrible.

You've learnt and know so much. You know about the concept of respect, forms of love, definition of life, window of ambitions and so on.

You know that in life, one has to endure some suffering of their own; be it immensely agonising or, just a pinch of tremendous hurt.

You do everything you can to make your day better, not letting your temper or overwhelming thoughts claim you.

You promised yourself that you'd never shed tears without genuine reason. You promised to become strong, give direction to the lost and strength to the fainthearted. Yet today, you cried. Well, who wouldn't? When people go out of their humble way to make your own day worse, anyone will cry.

But, you've already felt the distasteful pint of humiliation on your tongue. It always sizzles and bubbles inside your tummy. It's absolutely disgusting. Gross. Not stomachable. Your belief and conviction towards yourself have rotten into degraded scraps. It's malodorous.

Your humanity has worn out in others' eyes. You aren't a person, you are an animal. You are livestock to be eaten, a pet to be played with, and an awkwardly trotting roach.

You endured all this until now. Endured until you also began to see them as helpless dogs and gluttonous pigs; an ant to be squashed by your indifferent foot in motion.

You've endured. You've seen how cruel the world can be when seen through teary eyes. Yet, why do you still cry?

— takenby7seven