I am not kind nor am I gentle
Accuses man although he's mental
He never could understand a feral thing
But has a plot to control it with a ring
I happened upon the interloper
Who will kill the family to rise
He thinks I should sleep with the enemy
Because he found my bed
And he lies
This hunter never lived for the wild
He never had to survive
He likes his sheep meek and mild
They're of no use when they feel alive
My mirror holds a lamb for the slaughter
I stare at it every day
No act of war nor immolation
Will save what you threw away
You are a funeral pyre
Set aflame by the fire I loaned
I rise from the ashes of a liar
No longer a sheep that I loathe
As I prowl through my land I feel primal;
A rage I cannot contain
I guess no one warned you
An animal
Will not be cornered
Nor will it be tamed
Your bullets and arrows killed slowly
You hunted to extinction the old me
A predator can't relate to his prey
Any more than we might be happy someday
I have endured twice a decade, an exodus
Can't be killed, I just go to the mattresses
Go on, keep treating me like a bad dog
So I've got nothing to lose
When I put the hurt on
You are a prideful hunter, napping in your blind
I am a carnivore, surviving since the dawn of time
You have threatened me, my nest, and my cubs for too long
I will end you
Survivalism isn't wrong
I consider your lies and aggression acts of war
With no blind in which to hide you will feel what I fight for
I will burn you out until
All you have is gone
...Then shrug my shoulders
And carry on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem