I'm writing this

To the rats and the rodents
To the mice and the gerbils.
You may think,
Why would she write a poem
To the rodents?
Poems are meant to be pretty
Fulls of sunshine and flowers.
They aren't for the creatures
That nibble holes in our walls
And squeak as we sleep.
They aren't for the creatures
Who live on the streets
And search the trash cans for food.
But I'm writing this to the rodents
Because the only response they get
When they're seen by the world
Is screams.
Screams of fear
Of anguish
Screams of hatred.
While dogs get fed treats and get cuddled in bed
The rats and the mice
The gerbils and rodents
Get trapped,
Tempted by set out food.
They get killed,
Squished,
Cornered by death.
So while poems are meant to be pretty things
I'm writing this to the ugly.
Because nothing
No matter how ugly
Is too ugly for a poem.

I'm writing this
To the rats and the rodents
To the mice and the gerbils.
You may think,
Why would she write a poem
To the rodents?
Poems are meant to be pretty
Fulls of sunshine and flowers.
They aren't for the creatures
That nibble holes in our walls
And squeak as we sleep.
They aren't for the creatures
Who live on the streets
And search the trash cans for food.
But I'm writing this to the rodents
Because the only response they get
When they're seen by the world
Is screams.
Screams of fear
Of anguish
Screams of hatred.
While dogs get fed treats and get cuddled in bed
The rats and the mice
The gerbils and rodents
Get trapped,
Tempted by set out food.
They get killed,
Squished,
Cornered by death.
So while poems are meant to be pretty things
I'm writing this to the ugly.
Because nothing
No matter how ugly
Is too ugly for a poem.