SHUTUP30.3: Eye of the Tiger


Today’s prompt was to write a journal through the eyes of an animal as it observes the world. As there are no animals that love me, I wrote about ominous ones instead.

The ties that bind you,
supper, are of home-spun silk,
decay at a touch.

Quake, wizened human,
before my dark mighty wings!
All this trash is mine.



We tell ourselves tales
of animals, and expect
to know why humans.


cc by Early Novels Database via Flickr