Bullfighting

The crowd roars with excitement,

As the matador enters the ring.

The bull stands proud and defiant,

A symbol of strength and everything.

The cape is waved, the sword is drawn,

As the matador takes his stance.

The bull charges, horns like swords,

In a dance of death, a deadly romance.

The crowd cheers as the bull is weakened,

His spirit broken, his will forsaken.

The matador strikes, the crowd goes wild,

As the bull falls, his life is denied.

But what of the pain, the fear, the despair,

That the bull feels in his heart, and everywhere?

Is this a fair fight, a battle of equals,

Or a cruel spectacle, that leaves no sequel?

We must look deep within our souls,

And question the things we take as goals.

For a life is a life, be it man or beast,

And to end it in such a way, is a shame, to say the least.

Let us find ways to celebrate life,

Without causing pain and strife.

For in doing so, we become more humane,

And create a world that's truly sane.