I have hands like a wild animal
Scratching and tearing
They make a scavenger
out of me.

They have been fit with claws like blades
and bleeding knuckles.
I have hands like a wild animal.

Born and ready to take whatever they must
And conquer whatever they can
And so capable
Capable of ruinous
Terrifying things
I have hands like a wild animal.
But I have a whispering, quiet heart.
So full of inhibitions that it swells
Not on love,
But the fear of losing it.

A quiet heart. With passion like a sheep
Buried in the docile comfort
Of never going too far.

Of never wanting too much.
Of leaving.
Heading back for home
Before you ever even got off the train.

I have animal hands paired with
a cursed, mild heart.

Sometimes I wonder, with my
Shepard’s brain.
How the world could tame my heart
and forget my hands.