You told me that a tiger’s stripes didn’t make him a tiger. It was his ability to hunt and the weaknesses of his prey that make him king.
I have heard the word “fuck” come out of your mouth like it was beautiful and you wanted to savor it and roll it around before spitting it at my red hands.
If I breathe wrong, will your world stop spinning?
I can only be quiet for so long.
I can’t tell you what it means to be a tiger
But I can tell you
You will not reign over me and you
To prey on.