like a chook in the final death throes in the clutches of a fox really letting out the lungs to scare the mammal into a fit of sympathy the howls from the other side blood curdling is it enough to let go of dinner the means to self preservation how hungry are you fox the other's pain becomes my own in this moment of death ecstasy the fear of the light closing in on the predator become target potential prey exposed does it have to be this way can we not all go on munching upon the grass which seems to grow back with greater vigor after every bite
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