The Bull Doesn't Care

gray0328

 

The stars don't care about your prayers,  

they burn because they're born to—  

light bleeding across indifferent skies.  

 

The bull lowers its head,  

muscle rippling like anger unspoken,  

charging not for malice but instinct.  

 

Out there, the world chews your virtues  

like gum gone stale, spit out  

onto battered pavement.  

 

You think goodness should matter,  

like a dollar tucked into a beggar's palm  

buys you grace, but—no.  

 

Bar fights end with busted lips,  

not apologies. The house always wins,  

even when you play nice.  

 

So go on, shine your saintly coat,  

count your tally of quiet kindness:  

the bull still doesn't care.

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Comments +

Comments5

  • nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

    Good write, enjoyed the read and subject matter

  • sorenbarrett

    Cynical and pointed toward nihilism it speaks plainly its view of life and the universe. It is a fave

  • Friendship

    Well written, my friend, you had me thinking!. Your poem explores themes of existentialism, the nature of goodness, and the harsh realities of life. It juxtaposes human attempts at kindness and morality against the backdrop of a universe that is unconcerned with those efforts.

    • gray0328

      Thanks for sharing your feedback I appreciate it

      • Friendship

        You're so welcome

      • Thomas W Case

        Merciless truth, laid bare and unflinching—your kindness is light tossed into the wind.
        The world doesn’t bend for virtue; it tests it, grinds it, and leaves you raw.

        • gray0328

          Thank You Brother

        • NafisaSB

          this is so true in real life - agree with you..



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