Little Bear

When you are accustomed to starvation ,

Caged away from loving hands ,

Naturally you will swallow, whole ,

Every scrap of desire thrown to you .

.

Your home mirrors that of a circus cub ,

The shackles keep you obedient ,

Your purpose is to entertain ,

An object of humiliation.

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And they throw you their scraps ,

.

And they watch you eat ,

.

And they are amused.

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But, as is true in the creation of great things ,

Your pain becomes your substance ,

Your appetite becomes insatiable ,

You learn of power.

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Now you feed on those men,

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And you watch yourself eat ,

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And you are amused.