They call me God’s best killing machine,
And I was blessed with the skills,
Any ecosystem I was introduced in,
I had clearly dominated and eliminated,
Pushed a couple or more species into extinction,
Yet there are these giants who try to catch us,
Take us into their big nests and feed,
Like we are some endangered species,
As far as I am aware, we are the danger,
Yet these clothed animals know nothing better,
Making bad imitation of our language,
They pspspsps, which is definitely an interesting sound,
Even yours truly was almost found caught in that trap,
I have lost many of my comrades to those humans,
That I now hunt alone hiding,
From their interesting smells and sounds,
One day, I come across my old friend,
Who now goes by the name “Ginger Bread”,
When asked why does she prefer being confined,
Ginger Bread breaks my reality licking her paws,
Revealing, that they slave for us, feed, take care of our waste,
All we have to do is allow them to touch sometimes,
That too depending on our mood,
And being rude doesn’t impact the inflow of constant food,
Hearing this completely changed my point of view,
For I was one of the remaining few,
Who still has to work to eat,
Everyone else now have assistants and slaves,
Since then I longed for the sound and scent,
I was now hunting for my slave instead of prey,
And there was the awaited sound,
Bad imitation of my language and fearful attempt of touching,
I have let them do what they want without hurting,
I almost questioned my choice when I was dipped on water,
But later they have dried me with something called towel,
I could see from their eyes that they could never hurt me,
I guess being a God beats being a God’s killing machine,
They do keep calling me “Shane”,
Maybe I’ll get used to it,
Or they will experience pain.