A bear,
Scarred deep,
Hungry,
Greedy,
Creeping on heavy, broken legs
Makes its way
Solitary through ashen woods.
It shakes
Its brutal head
Offering
Impotent huffs
Of violence
Into the
Sacred silence of the trees.
Old now,
Entitled,
Malevolent,
Prideful.
Behind those pinhole eyes
A vacancy
Of feeling.
Although,
Perhaps no feeling there ever was.
And the seeming playfulness
The forest knew
From long ago
Was mere puppetry.
It missed the crumbs
Laid out amongst its fallen leaves.
It supposed the
Friendless vigils,
Staring blankly,
Out into the world
Was solemn pain.
It even offered evergreen,
Embracing sympathy,
Imagining
There was a tender side.
But look at those gouging claws
And those
Dull and deadened eyes.
Like all dumb beasts,
Young or old,
It does not care.
And never has.
But was propelled by
Pain,
Self-pity,
Fear, and rancour,
Feasting ruthlessly upon
Any truthful soul
That idly crossed its path.
