Wild Thing, by Sir Garland Penrose

Skin a tapestry—painted by hand

Others unblemished, plain and bland

I see in you a kindred spirit

I see you see it—and you fear it

You scrap and brawl and let them hit you

You let them stare, insult, outwit you

Wild things like us are beat—not beaten

Clawed, bruised, jawed—not eaten

When the world takes us within its teeth

We’re spat out—let bleed in the heath

I’ve seen the stories on your hide

Wounds they left—worse they tried

A wounded, whipped, mangy stray

I cannot bear be seen that way

I may have a pretty face

Upon my body out of place

The truest beauty seen there is

The tapestry of wild thing ’Eris’

You needn’t wear a frown or scowl

I have heard you—made you howl

I would not guard you from harm

I’d hear your stories, keep you warm

A kindred spirit I see in you

For I am but a wild thing too