Bullfight (2002)

Tired Bull
Thin and worn
Dancing with those who mean to destroy it
Running it into a bitter fatigue
As they flag its fancy around a ring
Where the people cheer
Ignorant of the tragedy they perceive
When men on horses protrude from the gates
Shallowly cutting the bull to make it bleed
And its life pours slowly down its back
Down its dying legs
Until it turns the sands of the arena
Red
But still the bull runs
With no place for it to go
No retreat in sight
It must turn and stand and fight
So with its choice made the matadors
Make theirs
Drawing their swords high
Red cape waving a farewell
They plunge the sword into the bloody back
Of the creature they claim to honor
By displaying its death
To a roaring crowd
And each time the bull falls
Into the pool at its feet
The crimson salute of its last day
With one dying snort it collapses
Into the muffled cheers of the stadium
Where its purpose has been served
A subpoena for certain death

And some feel pity for those who wept
When they feel pity for those who did not.