Stared

I have forgotten the moon,

The tender warm of its glow,

Radiating along the billabongs of old,

Illuminating the prey of plenty.

I have forgotten hunting,

The precision of the bite and the exhilaration of the chase,

As my paws graced the wet grass of my home.

I have forgotten freedom,

The power of nature and the winds,

The spirits who lived beside me, guiding me through life.

I am but now a mere husk of my previous life,

My name replaced,

My insides surgically rearranged, my body stuffed with cotton,

Put into a glass prison for my killers to watch,

Another page of a long book.