75 Million: A Monologue

The good old days are called so for a reason.
They were simpler, warmer.
This new age of mammals is too cold.

Why must I be the one to change? I was here first.
The fur creatures should be the ones to adapt.

I shed my scales to survive.
Now I’m too soft.

Killing used to be strength, now it’s cruelty.
Only the strong survive, but in this frigid age,
We coddle the weak.

I say let them die.
I’m sick of this disenchanted wasteland.

I sped forward for earth.
Why won’t earth come back for me?


A/N: Inspired by bitter, misanthropic velociraptors from dinosaur cartoons.

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