Little pond, little pond,
In the heart of this town,
Two little frogs sitting side by side,
We were young, barely five.
We played with rocks, sticks—
Jump ropes, chess, and dominoes
All those harmless little things.
He brought a stick, and I the stone.
He claimed the pond was our kingdom.
We were both knights with a cause—
Defeat everyone who can do harm.
The water is muddy; it needs cleansing.
See how those green monsters keep splashing?
They need to be defeated.
He palmed the stone in his tiny hands,
Threw the rock as it splashed.
The first one missed, the second skipped,
The third cracked as it hit.
“It is nothing but a frog,” he protested.
It was something small, alive, and green,
Not something that a boy can ****.
But how violent can love be?
He batters his hands.
Why is it in his nature to crash?
Look at the frogs; see how they jump—
But how would they look
If they were crushed?
If you want to stay, my friend,
Wrangle their little necks,
Gouge out their eyes,
Tear at their insides.
Rocks are made
To crush, crush, crush—
Can you feel
The rush, rush, rush?
Two frogs sitting by the pond,
With their hands and legs torn.
I shook my head—
Not made for violent acts,
And to do this for his satisfaction
Would be self-betraying,
Not fitting for innocent beings.
Two innocent beings,
Sitting side by side—
Is he worth it,
Shedding blood for?
When I look at my reflection,
She knows she wants more.
"Crush them, crush them," you chanted—
I hesitated back then.
Innocent and right,
But at home,
You had to fight.
Later, they buried the hole.
The dirt and ground covered them whole.
Two little frogs, side by side,
Now they sit with heads torn wide.
Violence breeds violent acts.
Rocks and sticks
Can shift from toys
And playing children
To careless fools.
It's right, it's alright.
I know you had to fight.
Draw your sword and die by it.
At home, his fist shaped to hit,
And the cycle is just habit.
The predator chases the rabbit.
And if you ask me again,
I might not think twice—
Two frogs sitting side by side.
