starving as he was,
the snow could not hinder
the undying rage
beneath his fur, his skin—
it was boiling,
as if to erupt,
to evolve into
something entirely
different.

wailing, he kept walking
despite the weight of it all,
shredding every piece
of humanity ever
afforded to him.
it was then
that he realized
animals were never
concerned with rights
or wrongs—
only what was
in their hearts,
or their craving.

he kept his fangs
showing, his claws
sharp enough to maim,
to turn his next friend
into a victim—
just so he can go back,
rest, and live
another god-awful day.