Hacking at the keys

The show relay
is far from comforting,
as I keep seeing them again;
sometimes upstairs
other times, their faces...
What was once welcoming
seems to be gunning for me.

Never turn around,
in presence
or even worse
in mind.
They have things for you
and don't you know it, kid!
but you should have taken them,
whilst it was there
instead of looking at it:
That everything
that is now your nothing.

I sit down,
blank,
this could have as easily
been a poem
about tigers
or how the general consensus
is all wrong,
but, once again,
it's about the mistakes
I have made
and my inability
to conquer them.

Maybe if I can keep
hacking at the keys
I'll forget, and somehow
that tiger will slot in
to the scheme of things
as his entire essence
lunges at me,
and I smile at him
just before those beautiful jaws
close around my throat
and I thank him,
for doing me a favour
that I could not possible
comprehend doing
myself.