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.