I am Mowgli who has slain the beast,

that great tiger who promised to devour me.

I dance upon his corpse for the battle is won,

and I am triumphant.

But the wolves I imagine have come alive.

I can see their eyes glowing from the shadows around me,

like hot embers from a dying flame.

I want to run but where can I turn?

There is no hope of escaping them,

and even if I could where would I go?

Society has cast me from their ordered neatness,

into the depths of this Stygian jungle.

The sight of me was offensive to the civilized,

and I had no desire to become one of them,

so they drove me away, into the forest.

But I am an outcast here as well,

waiting to be broken down by nature,

and returned to the dust.

Will I ever find peace?

The situation I find myself in reflects my inner turmoil.

The calmness of my features belies the emotion raging within.

My uncertainties and the insecurity I feel are the essence of my being.

The wolves draw closer now.

I can see the drool slathered on their mighty jaws,

dripping from cruel fangs.

Is this the end?

Is this how I finally attain the peace that has eluded me all these years?

I am ready.

My eyes close and I feel something I thought was lost to me.

A smile.

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