He has wandered for a while,
And come to find his territory,
A place where he has finally beat
All others & all odds.
The wounds of his journey shine.
On his ragged, sunburnt coat.
They make him look uglier
A lot more than his innocent soul.

A soul, that from being beaten
Being chased for no reason
Simply cannot discern,

Between love and fear.
So when people come near,
He growls and suspects
Because he doesn't know if a person
Wants to torture or touch.
And he can't find out once more
Not the hard way.

His only pride now -
is to guard his dirt.
To pretend it's worth.
To pretend he's king.
To roam the earth.

And it's only a matter of time
Before he scars someone else.
An act of a beast -
Simply set in his ways.
And finally the soul of that child
will resemble it's mane.
And the world resolves again.
To hunt all strays because
"They are evil",
They're all just the same.