Tiger.

She sits quietly,
In the safety of her den.
Planning, plotting
Biding her time.

Watching. Waiting patiently,
For the Perfect moment
To make her move.
To pounce.

With hair as red as the
Flames of a campfire crackling
In the night, keeping her
Predators away.

Eyes, greener & more
Vibrant in colour, than any
Emerald gem stone known to
Mankind.

The windows to her soul,
Her spirit, so full of life.
After spending her days
Ensnared in the painful
Grasps of traps, made
By the calloused hands
Of man.

She bares her teeth to the
World, in the hopes of
Scaring any & all
Potential Hunters away.

Her roar she is not afraid
For you, to hear.
Her ferocity striking fear, into
The hearts of those that she does not trust.
A subconscious coping mechanism,  
Due to all the years of being abused.

She's developed a skin,
Thicker than her coat.
Her Enemies, she does
Tear limb from limb.
A trophy she presents,
To her kin.

Do not be stupid enough, to go out of your way
To Provoke the beast, that is
Woman...

...For She, will surely win.

- Alexandra Pierotti.