The day Gadaffi got what it meant to be human

Isn’t nature beautiful?
Is it?
It is.
Oh is it?
Yes it is.

What about Gadaffi?
And his iron fist
The fist that crushed to death many of his own people
A fist that displayed one of our most natural of traits

Poor Gadaffi came to understand this all too well
Sadly a little too late
Reduced to nothing more than a frail old man
That viewed the killing cycle coming full circle
The very murderous wheels he put in motion
Swallowing him up and continuing on its unceasing way.

Beaten and shot to death by his own kind.

Natural yes
But ugly
So very ugly
Distorted to such proportions that it seems normal
Acceptable
Deserved.

I hated all he did
I wish nobody had died
But adding sons, daughters, uncles, aunties, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, grandparents, and friends bones to the growing pile only makes the number larger.

I am not defending that monster in anyway
But at his end I watched on a screen
An old man
Gripped in fear
Begging for his life
Like so many he killed
All scared
All people
All perfectly natural
And so disgustingly sad.

Isn’t nature beautiful?
It is.

Is it?