‘Why can’t you be nice?’ I asked.
‘We can’t, because we’re people,’
the humans beings replied.
The birds and the other beings
nodded. ‘That’s the truth,’
they all said together.
‘If you are born a human
you’ll be bad.’
I wanted a different answer.
‘Can’t some of them change?’
I asked. I saw shaking heads.
‘Maybe,’ said one chicken.
She walked to the people.
They killed her dead
just because they could.
These poems are good. Unfortunately, mostly true.