I was running a hand over my animal’s side

When I came to understand

That it could very easily kill me.

I realized, further, that it would kill me.

I expected that if it was left unfed

Or deprived of sleep

The animal may fade away

Yet, it was a constant in my life.

The more I lived with this animal,

I became less afraid of dying

And more afraid of not living.

But the animal clawed at my life,

Brought its nails down my side

And tore away my chance to live.

Yet, it was kind,

It led me to the end of a dark tunnel

Just where I could see the bright opening

But, too late, I realized

It was not the end of a tunnel

But the headlamp of a train

Heading right towards me.

My animal was not a separate entity,

Rather something of my own creation.

An internal battle of self harm and doubt.

Facing a war with nothing to live for

That is when I soon discovered,

In a race with old age and sickness,

I would be the first to kill me.