There is a wall with a beast behind.
What is this beast, of fangs what kind?
A feeling not oblivient to thee.
So tell a man, do you still fear me?
You no longer play your cat-mouse game.
But by some other rules, by of what name?
Is it a fear of what you have inside?
Or has the fear gone, letting love reside?
Does the beast have prey beyond the wall?
What if it should crumble, if it should fall?
Would bloodshed be sufficient for you?
What are your feelings, and are they true?
Now let the beast out of the cage.
So that I may see truth without any rage.
The beast is free to feed at will.
But blind to the beast I am not still.
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