Breadcrumb #309


They always told me that

I would go down in history.

Vicious creature, thing of beasts.

I would roam the vast

red dirt canyons, sun gleaming the dust

in my fur, sand jamming its way in

between my claws.

Head held high by the crown

blessed by the food chain above.

I’d hear the countrymen below say

It’ll kill you children, eat your pets,

do not stare into the iridescent eyes

or its bites will be met.

Their shotguns finally crackled,

holes torn through my organs,

staining my fur.

My children watching me,

bushing tails and overgrown paws

now on their own.

I did go down in history,

even dipped in gold.

This countryman has me

front and center.

How he tamed the wild beast

as my vagrant eyes stare at his cadets.

Brave one, aren’t ya?

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