Thylacine Hunter

Every picture has a story, but not everyone wants to hear them.
This house is my house, and yet I don't feel welcome in it.

I'm asked to speak because they like the sound of my voice.
But they don't like what I'm saying.

It's not dinner time, but get your knives out anyway.
We're packing bags, but we're not going anywhere.

Maybe one day we can all talk again.
But that day is not today or tomorrow.

Threat displays are all well and good.
But I'm not trying to hunt for prey.

I'm not ready to vent just yet.