Tenderheart The Wicked

A wounded animal is caught inside a trap;
There's no way out.
All the noble creatures of the forest see the animal,
Struggling and trying to get free...
But the only way to regain its freedom
Is to break the trap...

They outcry, saying it would be unfair to the trapper;
After all, it is their property,
And damaging it is wrong, unjust...
As if justice were a thing so set in stone;
They argue for the hunter,
For if the creature were to break the trap and free itself,
It would be hurting its attacker,
And then it wouldn't be any better
Than the very darkness that ensnared it.

Except they're forgetting one major thing,
That it's a piece of property
Aimed at deliberately hurting others;
Forged from tears of blood, with malicious intent...

The others all look down on the animal,
For the poor creature's view is obscured,
Since it's pinned down on the cold ground;
Rubies cascading slowly from its side,
Empty cacaphonies of anguish bellowing from its soul,
Jaws clenching and unclenching, and aching,
Like the ebb and flow of the tides,
As it bites down onto the cold, unforgiving steel..

It cannot break the trap,
And therefore, cannot get free...
So the creature continues to cry its tears...
Until it is silenced.
Now they have to look at it,
Stare into its eyes as the warmth of life leaves it,
And ask the mighty forest
If we are any better than the creature
For forcing it to die...

Are we morally superior,
For telling it to go against its basic instincts?
But hey...
Why should we side with the creature,
When the trapper gives us the scraps?

Sometimes we're the animal,
And sometimes...
Sometimes we're the trapper...
And sometimes we're the entire forest.
As for myself,
I am just an acorn,
Lost in the leaves...

But even I shall never forget the lesson
Of Tenderheart the Wicked;
Who died in shallow vain...