The Fox and Their Claws: An Anecdote.

“ oh no… no… not again… “, whisper the fox to themselves. not again.

their claws bleed just once more. and the hyenas giggled, repeated ‘ we told you so ‘ the fox tried their best to turn deaf of.

they’re not right, they don’t know how hard i tried.

“ father, why does my claw bleed again? “, they asked. they knew the answer, but maybe they just want to blame someone.

“ you know why “, their father looked with pity.

i should have understood, should have said okay to my father. but the anger i had for a whole decade bubble up and i cried,

“ and you too, you know why. you made me like this. why didn’t you say sorry? “,

and others whisper to themselves again.

to them, you look like fire.

but to yourself you are just a pathetic little fox, crying a plea.

“ why didn’t you ever say sorry? because of you, i don’t understand how to love. you love like you hunt a prey. i tried my best not to be like you, i tried to be more calm, i tried to be more loving, i tried to be more tender, i tried to kiss — not bite. so then why do i still burry my claws so deep it made her bleed? “

and father fox turned his back to them. he has no word. he asked you to just forget of everything he did, make peace of everything. but even if you find it easy to forget everything; not this one. never this one.

but you know the answer,

“ because you’re my daughter, little fox. you ruin everything you touch, you wilt everything you plant. “, he didn’t say it. but you know it’s the answer.

little fox gasp for air, tears streaming down their matted fur.

had it not been i’m your daughter, i’d be better at this.

but part of you know you’d never blame your father for what he has gone through too;

it is the love he understood, just like how you end up burrying your claws too deep — what’s different with him? maybe his paws are too calloused to even touch your mother’s cheek tenderly as well.

my dear, you are a fox. you are not meant to kiss, you’re meant to bite. burry your fangs ‘till it bleed, ‘till it makes a hole.

who are you lying to?

who are you giving hope to?

this is why you always get hurt at the end,

you’re not meant to be loved,

why do you ask God for the impossible?

you are no lamb.

and i turned around, looking at everyone watching like they have failed me — eventhough i fail everything myself.

mother fox held her tears, but she decided to turn her back too.

little fox, now that you’re alone with your shadow; even your own shadow terrifies you. so why don’t others fear you as well?

little fox walk and walk for miles, then look at their reflection against the water. they fall on their knees, closing their eyes. once again reminded they’re a fox.

no matter how much you try to love as tenderly, you’re still a fox.

so little fox lick their own open wounds and reside the nights silently.

and God also, turn His back. because you are no lamb. you’re a fox. “ you did it to yourself “, a fox shouldn’t ask for flowers — you’re a carnivore. a murderer.

so even if she pull dagger against me, i’d say thank you.

you’re only a wool-coated fox.