Note: 25 lines (2+5=7, 7 syllables per line for the numerologists)
I've gotten used to my cage
It's small, and narrow, and dull
But it smells like me alone
So I've become used to it
My keeper is an old joke
He feeds me, thinks I'm grateful
I could just tear out his throat
without blinking my gold eye
Feed on this, m...(insert curse)
They even have me do tricks -
like they could ever MAKE me -
The woman in her black tights
will put her head in my mouth
ruffle my mane to loud cheers
as if that makes me happy
Poor fool, if she only knew
A hand in my mane won't work
Give me what I really need
The heart-pounding chase, the hunt
the leap, the cry, surrender
the wind blowing around me...
I've gotten used to my cage
But may the gods help them all
if I ever just decide
that I am still a lion.
~Fionn oMurchu
8/20/09
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