the fox and me and the fox i am

Nothing…
Well, not nothing
But certainly not anything good
A dead fox
A beautiful crime
The soft, smooth fur
The still, warm body
I sweep my hand over the creature
The horrible, yet strangely tempting smell of death
Still lingering in the open air
The moonless night
The staring eyes of the fox
Looking in the direction of the dark house
No lights were on
The house had been empty for almost a year
The fox had raised a family in this house
But now they would die
Just like their mother had
By my cold hands
I felt sorry for the little soft things
Scurrying away from me
Fearing my scent
My image
A small sound comes from behind me
A human scent interrupts the smell of death
I hiss
Now I am the fox
Now I am in danger
Now I must run
Like the little soft things
I leap for the house
The house of the fox
The house of me
My hunter follows
He is holding something heavy
It sounds like it is hard for him to breathe
This is good
I keep running
So does the tiered human
The smell changes
I am far from the death now
I am safe
Maybe…
I pause and sniff around
Nothing…
The scenery changes abruptly
I am holding something
Something heavy
I see my target
Slowly creeping towards it
I suddenly feel bad for this
This beautiful crime I am about to commit
Like I will be killing part of myself
As I kill this wonderful creature
But it is too late
I have forgotten why I am doing this
Or even if I should
But I know I will


what do you think of it? i wrote it after a fox killed one of my chickens and my dad humanly killed the fox. even though this was the second time the fox had attacked i still love foxes as one of my three favorite animals.