and the jackals tore out the throats of the poachers

when change needs to happen you dont ask. you demand.

when life is in danger you dont tuck your tail and run. you bite.

i will not sit and stay. i will snarl and snap. let foam fly from my maw. let me see the same terror in your eyes that you drive into the hearts of the people. let my piercing howl cut your hateful voice. you will hear the screams and cries, by the end, if they have to be your own.

press your hands to your ears— i'll gnaw them off at the wrist.

screw your eyes shut— your mind will make up the images for you.

the blood will fill your nose and lungs and you will drown in the smell of the death you wrought.

your high horse bleeds just the same as the starved mare dying on the ground at its feet.

her deep brown eyes reflect the soul and wisdom that you will never fill your own cold, blue heart with.

you think the jackals relish an easy meal.

but all eyes are on you.

and your strong, high horse.