A little boy runs
Through a crowded market place
His arms held out
As he weaves between all the people
A little toy airplane
Held tight in his outstretched hand
He runs along
With a smile plastered on his face
Making airplane noises
All around him is the sound
Of a society
Perpetually on the move
Haggling, arguing
Agreeing, thanking
All the mouths moving
As they converse amongst each other
The boy hears a loud noise
He slows as he runs
It alone stands out
One noise in a world of clatter
It rings in his ears
Finally he stops
As the pounding noise
Is right in front of him
Looking at the market stall
Placed before him
A butcher stands
A meat cleaver in one hand
Humming happily
As he chops into the meat
Of an animals dead corpse
The crack of bones
As the metal crushes
The animal’s dead body
Crack crack crack
It echoes in the boys ears
As the butcher wedges the knife
Out of the cutting board
Out of the pile of pulverized meat
The butcher wipes the blood
On his white apron
Laughing as he notices the boy
Standing there motionless
His arms dangling limp
At his sides
The butcher brings the cleaver down
Again and again
The boy flinches each time
Following each little movement
With eyes wide
Hands gripping tightly onto
The little toy airplane
The butcher spits to the side
And looks down his nose
At the small innocent boy
He snorts again
You wanna try kid?
It’s fun
He holds out the cleaver
Stained in blood
The little boy drops the toy
And steps forward
Out of his old world
And into a new one
As he grabs onto the knife
To big for his tiny hands
The forgotten toy sits on the ground
It is crushed beneath the crowd
As it moves forward
Always moving
The boy doesn’t notice
The crack of bones resounds
Echoing into a crowd that doesn’t listen
And doesn’t care
Except for the little crushed airplane toy
That lays broken and forgotten
As a boy walks away from innocence
Into a world of blood
As the cleaver falls