Escaped

When you grabbed those babies from screaming mothers, you should have known. When you sold them off like fruits to old pot-bellied beasts, you should have sealed your fate. Yet your eyes bulged as they cuffed your wrists and threw you behind bars. Your heart bled as years passed like pages in a notebook.

Then a guard carelessly left you that knife. You said it was from the gods you had wronged over the years. You dug tirelessly and prayed to dieties. But when your tunnel opened into the doghouse, you knew. The only god that had listened was karma.