The Frog

In grade 11,

I took a biology class.

There's a project in which we had to

dissect

a frog.

While many of my classmates

cringed with disgust,

I seemed to have no issue.

Why?

I was used to it.

I did not see a frog,

No,

I saw myself.

Laying there,

completely still,

ready to be picked apart.

I tear it open,

look through the inside,

find the heart,

and hold it between a pair of tweezers.

I rip it apart.

Piece

by

piece.

I dissected,

judged,

criticized

every last lobe of that creature.

Everything about that frog

was laid out,

torn,

judged,

criticized.

I take a breath.

I related to that frog.

-

For more, please follow my Instagram @_mattmar10, and consider leaving a LIKE, a COMMENT, or even a TIP if you really enjoyed it. If you'd like to support my content, please consider PLEDGING as well as this does help me create more. Thank you for reading <3