画虎画皮难画骨，知人知面不知心。

When you draw a tiger, you draw its skin, but not its bones.
When you know a person, you know their face, but not their heart.

To walk into a lair, knowing—
prey are attuned to every move.

With each muscular threat, ripples.
I know how to hide in the long grass.

The shadows grow and fall around us;
we all thirst for the same waterhole.

You’ve learnt poison can taste sweet—
do you not see how it rises in your veins?

In the night, only seeing eyes reflect truth.
The dark covers the migration of innocent mice.

In the morning light, your skin is papery:
you are tearing at the seams. Your stripes

are the remnants of a long-held cruelty.
Give it up. Eat. Drink. Rest. Stop hurting..