Anniversary of the Tiger

I carry crimson pain within my fur; 'Tis how my wretched stripes have come to be. My motion swift as wind, my vision never blurred, My stature mighty as the waves at sea. I frown at camouflage, I need it not For hiding is a trait built for the weak. Through diligence and wit my prey is caught; Through stringent fangs that hide a heart that's meek. Auspicious silence e'er befriends my paws To tread the lonely vicious jungle that is life. A life sustained by keenness of my claws, And by the bitter hatred of my strife. In years gone by, my roar shall still be heard; E'en when I die, and when my soul's interred.