The mighty tiger asks, “How fast can you
run?”
And all the forest is stricken still.
The winds shriek all night before the sun
Uncovers those that felt the kill.
A young boy leaps out grasping at the
pall-
Only the warrior’s capes can save his
fall
Unto the screaming silence that is his
private hell.
And from the night a voice asks, “Can you
tell
This place from where all are one shell?”
The meek lamb asks, “Does it make sense
To look for me - in the present tense?”
The tiger snarls, “How fast can you run?”
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