I

“Why do you pull away, every

time I get too close?” he asks.

And I can feel that thrumming anger

weaving through my ribs, begging me to

let it shatter, hurt and break.

I don’t answer; it’s as if I’ve

forgotten every word I’ve known.

He doesn’t look away and I can tell

that this is what it always comes to.

I grind my teeth together and the

illing rage consumes my rabid mind.

***

But I can’t and I won’t let it ruin this;

If I do, then I am left with nothing.

“I am a violent dog,” I answer.

“I know why I bite.”

***

II

I bite, so I’m not bitten.

I growl, ‘cause it’s the only

way I’m heard.

I bare my teeth in warning,

letting my intentions show.

I stalk around in circles, cornering

my prey before I’m trapped.

I retreat into my den when I am hurt,

licking at my open wounds. 

***

It’s my paranoia and my ugly rage,

that lead me blindly through this life.

My mother told me years ago,

“Hurt people hurt people.”

But what I do is not just hurt them:

I tear and rip their souls to shreds,

until there’s nothing left in them to fight.

Therefore I am safe and I’m protected.

And that is what dehumanizes me.

I am not a person anymore, haven’t

been for quite a while.

***

I am a violent dog. And I know why I bite.

TJ Kocmut