I ride a bounding tiger rampant in a field of shame. His fur is made of razor wire; I grip it all the same
He tries to throw me down to the cutting grass below; there to lay me open there to lay me low.
My teeth they grind and gnash, my gut turns and knots; he twists with might beneath me, muscles clenched and taut.
I know that he is hungry, his teeth sharp to bite, still I ride the tiger, heels and hands they fight.
The tiger takes his toll as we roll and bound in strife; my will to stay aboard, his to take my life.
Our yen and yang are tied morning noon and night. I go where he takes me, I dare not stop the flight.
For some the beast is anger, others lust or fame, but each ride their tiger though others know not its name.
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 1:12 AM UTC
I ride a bounding tiger rampant in a field of shame. His fur is made of razor wire; I grip it all the same
He tries to throw me down to the cutting grass below; there to lay me open there to lay me low.
My teeth they grind and gnash, my gut turns and knots; he twists with might beneath me, muscles clenched and taut.
I know that he is hungry, his teeth sharp to bite, still I ride the tiger, heels and hands they fight.
The tiger takes his toll as we roll and bound in strife; my will to stay aboard, his to take my life.
Our yen and yang are tied morning noon and night. I go where he takes me, I dare not stop the flight.
For some the beast is anger, others lust or fame, but each ride their tiger though others know not its name.
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