Piggy Bank

I cannot hurt this little pig
With pleading eyes so large and round
Which beg of me to step away
And place my hammer on the ground.

My skinny arms are all worn out.
I slightly sway from side to side, 
The hammer growing heavy now.
I need the coins that wait inside. 

My stomach turns; the piggy squeals.
How many coins? I need to know
The creature stands there, paralyzed,
Waiting for the coming blow.

Minutes later, all that's left
Are pieces of my little friend 
Who, for my petty greediness,
Has faced a quite untimely death.

Around me, scattered, all I see,
In a little, grimy pile, 
Are dull and worthless copper coins.
I have no reason left to smile.



16 years old

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