His eyes were bestial, his voice a storm.

I wrestled it to the ground
my heart
pounding
in my chest.

Its claws were knives
but it wore
the face
of the man
whose voice
once terrified me.

Victorious,
I buried it at the edge
of a monument
commemorating
my victimhood.

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11 thoughts on “His eyes were bestial, his voice a storm.

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