I was raised by wolves
Born in blood and ripened in damp, dark caves.
I have seen my evolved kin and their cowardly ways,
bowing before those who are not of our kind
as I hide in the cover of the vegetation.
In my veins runs white hot anger,
A blinding urge to spread the entrails of their oppressors across the forest floor
spelling out “NO MASTERS” with their waste and plasma
So that any monster seeking a friend
Will turn back before ever thinking twice
About giving me the home they think I need.
A home I may or may not deserve
I ask you for answers I know full well you don’t owe me,
Answers you may not ever know yourself,
In hopes of gaining some sort of insight
into a mind that I both covet and fear.
I catch myself running my fingers through your hair,
hoping as I part your locks that it may expose a vent,
Giving me access to the instruments and equipment
you use to keep yourself awake
So that no one will ever take advantage of you again
While you sleep.
I wonder if you will ever allow yourself to dream
Or if you know what dreaming is.
I cannot explain why miss the feeling of drowning while I am on dry land.
The salt in my eyes and the water in my lungs that caused such panic
sometimes seem less terrifying than leaving the coast behind.