the tender heart was open
sensitive to the touch
now in blood it's chokin'
can only take so much

the predator stands at point of vantage,
back to the wall to its advantage
eyes sweeping the world its stage
anxious to take its next hostage

perhaps as child they were bitten and hurt
kicked in the dust, trod in the dirt,
so they learnt to **** before they're hurt
rather than softly self assert

can they be blamed for being the wolf
when inside they're terrified of being stepped on
of being putted as a ball in golf
into dark hole, where they're dead and gone

so they kvell to see their victim fall
as they stand alert, with back to the wall,
it's their ******, their cortisol,
'cos inside is bitter, poisonous gall.

i rattle the bars of my cage
prowl back 'n forth with inner rage

but the metal is mirage
mind construct, subconscious montage

imprisoned by my vision
hear echoes of derision

a ****** of indecision
failing in life's mission

who is the mighty one?
he who conquers his impulse
his passion to overrun
with aversive repulse

the nimrods who hunt
with affront to confront
us lesser runts
with sneering grunts

have no real strength
or inner gold
only comes at length
of rejoinder withhold