I'm an iceberg on the sea. Perhaps, if you're not paying attention, your ship will run aground in me. I'm cold and sitting all alone. The deeper you dive, the more you'll know.
I'm a seagull flying South for Winter. If you look close enough you'll see my splinters. With every flap of my wing, the pain it grows deeper. So I cover it up and hope to find fresh fields, not become a lifelong sleeper.
I'm a calf just born to her mother and father. Lead me to greener pasture. Tell me that your care will endure. Old MacDonald comes and takes you away. "More meat, more milk," he mumbles to himself. "More loneliness, more isolation," are the thoughts that pull me off to sleep, ever so slowly. As another cow jumps over the moon, I think of the inevitable, "I too will be gone soon."