Locked in a cage,
Strong, but weak.

Tornado of rage,
Freedom does it seek.

Eyes of frozen fire,
And of merciless horror.

Overtime, does he tire,
Of watching the liberty of the North Star.

Leaving terror in his wake,
But never harming a hair.

Every step a mistake,
Happiness trapped in a snare.

Beneath his sheer god-like stride,
Nothing matched his velvet fur.

As a result, of no one in, he can confide,
His problems have attached like a burr.

The animals quiver as he passes by,
Him, hurting with every step.

Them, unaware of what dwells inside,
Still trembling, afraid of his pep.

They skitter away, leaving him alone,
To look in the river and see,

A man of flesh and bone,
Kneeling on one knee.

His soul stares back,
At the beast above,

A smile does he lack,
As does he miss love.

Even him, the freak,
Of the village.

Feels abnormally weak,
For the houses he did pillage.

Him, the perfect image of imperfection.
His tears slipping into the water.

Ripples distort his reflection,
His paw slapping Neptune’s daughter.

Howling, he turns away,
And cries himself to sleep.

And there he lay,
As the animals dared to peep.

A look at the defeated beast,
They had been terrified of.

Their fear decreased,
The tiger felt love.