In this jungle of variety
I try to be a deer;
Grass, salt, and my feet
Are all I need to be fulfilled
Yet, why is the end
To be prey—that meat on the tray
When all I've done is to roam free

But, when I become the tiger
Animals growl at me, they say
Stop, herbivore you should be
Not a predator, instead
A prey that roams free.