The Dieing Goat

I am a goat, a dieing goat. I have been pricked by the thorn of survival and I am not the fittest. In fact being weak has left me to die alone. I am at peace with this, the other to live are stronger, and smarter, their offspring are better off to fight survival. The strength of the species has risen, the babies will bounce.
Now my only duty as a dieing goat is to lay. Lay and wait by myself along with the fat, the lame, the dim, and other faultier beings with bad odds and unbeatable deformities. I wait to make the fittest predator stronger. In turn this pushes the strength of my species to the brink, and then beyond.