LITTLE CREATURES

A little creature teaspoon-tall, but a good heart
and that's a start.
Strolling around the park, you don't care,
people can do what ever they like.
But everybody knows you just live a day,
but you don't want to hear. You say: spare me from all that talk that the end is near,
you think it's bad enough anyway.

But is that nature's fault?

You seal off your windows, close all doors, to outer space.
You decide to cut all connections to the disgraceful human race.
But like a mist they keep coming at you, all these human relations
It's just that your heart doesn't live that long, instead it beats really fast, some things weren't meant to last.

But is that nature's fault?