Game Over

Do you think I run scared from you? Do you think that you stand above me in those big boots? Do you think I cower, trembling beneath a table, With my tail tucked between my legs, While you search for me atop that high horse you like to ride? Do you think in this childish game of cat and mouse, You so deviously started, That you are the cat with the sharpened claws And I am the weak, defenceless mouse— Fulfilling my only purpose as prey to you? And in this game that you planned out so perfectly, You sit and torment me day after day: Until, in the end, the tiny, petrified mouse Acts out and bites the paw that swipes at it— Only for you to reverse the roles and pretend that, all along, You were the poor, poor mouse; hunted mercilessly By me: the unruly predator. So, now, you say the mobs will appear to chase the beast away— You think I hide with my tail tucked between my legs; Ready to beg for your mercy— But I will not bow down to the words you say. If I am the monster, then let this be known: My teeth are bared and I am waiting to attack; Say your prayers and kiss your family goodbye Because trust me, friend, My bark is not worse than my bite.