A death trap for frogs

to leap into their barrels

A pit so sweet

so colorful and bright

but utilized as a weapon

to devour

to indulge a craving 

a taste for the living

to save itself from death.

We are like the pitcher plant.

We take the hearts of many,

we let them fall into our trap,

with gentle words,

a sweetness too good to resist.

And when we have these hearts,

cupped in the barrel

of our hands

we hold them so gently

before we squeeze

and suffocate

and maul

In hopes of taking the innocence

the light

the life

and feast upon it

 In hopes of feeling something

anything

once again.