Capture the Wild

The born, the hurt, the mistrust

equals

to the bone, the horns, the bust.

Animal pelts
shine in the heat.
Beady black eyes
are nobody's treat.
The crispness of the tattered lines
barley shoot through
starched tongue in brines.
Starved in one place,
my fellow goat's erased.
Into a stuffed
antelope,
deer, moose, and squirrell,
a world
of horror.
As my eagle friend
once seen, majestic,
in the sky.
Now dead and stuffed,
it's reality a lie.
To once was grand
may never cease.
To fellow birds
are now deceased.

The born, the hurt, the mistrust

equals

to the bone, the horns, the bust.

Now everything falls
upon the room.
Shiny floors
sweep up the gloom.
Boxed in glass
animals alone
stopped to admire
the place called "home".
Museum is closed,
the deadbeat gone
no creature's soul
could ever go wrong.
Lights shut off,
moon just glares.
At the poor mongoose,
deer, gazelle, and the bears.

The born, the hurt, the mistrust

equals

to the bone, the horns, the bust.