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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Sci-fi · #2199460
Grace is captured by the Grays and put to the test.
When an ethical quandary arose with a start,
Grace Lee Williamson swooned and she felt faint of heart.
Shall I sacrifice five people if to save ten?
In her mind was the question again and again.

Seems this quandary for Grace was trumped up by the Grays,
those intriguing space aliens with evil ways.
They had plucked poor old Grace from a walk she was on
near the edge of her farm at the first crack of dawn.

So they spelled out the rules from which Grace had to choose;
(and no matter her choice there were some who would lose.)
Grace could save ten by pushing a button in red,
but by doing so five other folks would be dead.

Do I bargain with life like casino roulette?
Is death mere calculation without a regret?

Grace’s face flushed to crimson, her blood boiled hot;
expectations of Grays putting her on the spot.

There was devilish cunning in this test for Grace,
and indeed it proved Grays are an inhuman race.
An unfortunate incident, savagery filled;
if poor Grace took no action, then all would be killed.

(There have been other times when these meddling Grays
  interfered in the lives and the times of our ways.
  Under guise of research they exhibited gall;
  they demanded our rights—got away with it all.)

Grace Lee looked at the panel with button extant,
then she sneered at Gray faces, their eyes at a slant.
And the hum of the ship as it hovered on high
seemed exceedingly strange, being some were to die.

Grace Lee Williamson summoned the sense of despise
and looked straight at the Grays with her steely blue eyes.
With an erudite tongue and with honest intent,
she admonished the Grays with heartfelt argument…

One cannot be compelled as the Grim Reaper’s tool;
  you establish the game with a hideous rule.
  I will not peddle flesh nor submit to your test,
    as well-being exists in what I think is best.

If I don’t make a choice, then their death’s not on me;
  you have pointed your gun and thus I am guilt-free.
  Such an action I’d take would be gruesome, indeed;
    maybe death would be less, but I’d still see them bleed.

40 Lines
(Anapestic Tetrameter)
Writer’s Cramp

—ethical quandary
—unfortunate incident
—got away with it
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2199460