Predator is my soul
Whose claws are
Ready to eat flesh
With no ounce of empathy.
Predator is my body
Which likes to hibernate
For long and profound
With no echoes of outrage.
Predator is my spirit
Always ready to have a
Sweet revenge from
Temperaments
Boiling my blood.
Predator is my mind
To all the hanky-panky
Done to bring me down
With treachery and disgust.
Predator is my being
Still sympathetic to
Chances who oath
Before me.
Predator is my psyche
Which saddens with the
Grey of the dusk leaving
The nightingales to rule
The bright.
Predator is my intuition
Filled with barriers
Of invasion done
With the simple act
Of diplomacy.
Predator is my façade
Born when the sting
Of wounds still linger
In my body rupturing
Me apart.
Predator is my defense
Which blooms only
With self esteem and
Recognition of myself.
Predator is my furry
Which will cease only
When matters are left
In the hands of the might power.
a touch of my saint! 