less than four

Dead Eye

Tiger, Tiger
Born in your cage
Neither space to run
Nor care to rage

Your face de-fanged
Your paws de-clawed
Only sighs escape your passive maw

Your meals are canned
Your eyes are glazed
The children pass you by unfazed.

Your limp belies that symmetry
That mortal hand and eye forgot
Treacherous denial fraught
With torment eternal, and all for naught

more like 3.5, and after a long weekend the day went by awkwardly. my TL came to the rescue in a big way, and we're actually back on schedule.

i did learn a good lesson in the morning: from now on i will no longer eat food acquired on base (with the exception of the mess hall). i'm convinced that the sandwich i had for breakfast was prepared by the guy at the store with malice a forethought.