You claim that I am the prey and you the hunter, but am I not a predator?
Do I not search, night and day, to no avail, for your validation? Do I not scavenge with the desperation of lions for you to praise me? Do I not hunt everywhere for the happiness that only you can give me? Do I not pursue your serenity? Do I not track down the key to all of my troubles, which has been in front of me the whole time?
Once you have wronged me, do I not use my claws? Do I not bite with my fangs and do my eyes not light up with the fury of a wildfire, burning and harsh? Do I not run towards you, silent and camouflaged, to tear you to shreds? Does my coat of startling black not hide me from prying eyes as I seek my prey? When given the option to either fight or flee, do I not always fight to my last breath?
You claim that I am the prey and you the hunter, but am I not a predator?
Tell me what it is about me that makes you think that. Am I too kind? Do not mistake my compassion for weakness, for even the darkest of creatures flee when a good man goes to war. I am kind so that others may live, but should you cross the line, I won't hesitate to unleash all of my anger on you, that's been storming and stewing in the depths of my soul for millennia.
You don't have the backbone to go through with cutting the ties. You are no hunter, you are weak and pathetic, gaining from others misfortune. Your dogs may growl at rabbits, but when faced with a true monster, they will flee, as will you. You are no hunter, you are a scared child trying to fight against titans.
You claim that I am the prey and you the hunter, but that is wrong. I am the predator, and you are the dirt I walk on.
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YOU ARE READING
Life Through A Seaglass Lens
PoetryPoetry- found by many but all so different. This is how I find it, through a camera lens of soft foggy green, a rhyming stanza of all I've seen. I am going to die by my own terms, facing whatever being shaped my soul, weapons out and teeth bared, o...
