I have a tiger in my chest,
It's cage was spun from silk.
Woven daily, and precise,
It purrs, I feed it milk.
The cage that I am weaving,
Keeps the tiger hidden deep.
But at night his playground- jungle,
Is my mind while I sleep.
This monster of my keeping,
Is strong and swift and white,
He was not meant for taming,
but for murder in the night.
With new rope I hide em daily,
sew him out of sight and thought,
The isolation keeps me living,
but the peace is labor bought.
I found him just a kitten,
I took him to my house to play,
But now, he's grown to prowl and hunt,
And break and kill his prey.
I have a tiger in my chest,
containment, lust and lies.
So mend the fence, and lock the cage,
and if he's loose, we die.
