They say we are like beasts in the night;
Senseless and wild.
Menacing fangs, ready to devour the world.
In truth, we are like wolves;
Untamed with teeth to rip apart all who dares threaten our packs.
With furs to cuddle the biting cold away, sharp ears and eyes to pick up on the first signs of danger.
In truth, we are like cats;
Finding our home back from the streets,
Or simply knowing how to get away from the hand that feeds nothing but pain.
In truth, we are like rats;
Blamed for a disease we do not have,
Deemed filthy and wretched by all who refuse know us.
In truth, we are like crows;
Beloved by the outcasts,
Flock together into groups, loyal with a love that can bring gods down.
In truth, we are like mint;
Impossible to get rid of, no matter how many of us you pluck out of this earth.
Persistent and all the more lovely for it.
You say we are like seeds planted in pots;
Destined to settle down the way the gardeners dictated, all other possible futures disregarded.
In truth, we are like the moon;
the phases are nothing but your refusal to see as us a whole.
