I loved to go on picnics,
the beach or to the park.
I had so much fun with you,
cooking s’mores in the dark.
I was there for all the fun times,
when family came around.
More often than not though,
you’d leave me lying on the ground.
Late at night when it was cold,
I’d feel a tiny prick.
I’d look up and in my horror,
a man holding a stick.
He’d pick me up against my will,
then place me in a bag.
The smell was just so awful,
it made me want to gag.
I could feel the movement,
as the man made his round.
Afterwards I felt myself being flung,
on top of a large mound.
I could hear a ‘whooshing’ sound,
something was burning.
That was when I knew with acceptance,
that I wouldn’t be returning...