I Was A Tiger

I was a tiger. Now I lie dead –
a tragedy for a man, a tragedy for a beast.
My wall’s height wasn’t right – too low instead.
I no longer have life, but I have freedom at least.

No mellow cat was I; anger led me to do harm.
I was bred to rule a jungle, be master of my domain.
Instead I was on exhibit; so I mauled a keeper’s arm.
I should have roamed free; in a zoo I had to remain.

Discontent and accumulated rage welling inside me,
I made the leap to freedom; that jump was tough.
Some will say the man I killed taunted me, but, you see,
of life confined in a zoo, I had simply had enough.