I have a panther, a sleek, black panther. It is not a black dog, oh no. I also have a black dog that slinks into my life, tail between its woe-is-me, quivering, shaky legs. It whimpers and whines, pitifully pawing until it draws me down to the floor to sit in an empathetic haze of misery for hours, days or even weeks.
No, this is a creature of far greater ferocity. Sometimes it lies sleeping, content to rest camouflaged by the shadows of life.
Until injustice, discrimination, or the pure evil which seeps from the internally putrid will awaken it from its slumber with an almighty roar. Rousing it from a supine sprawl to stir, wanting, craving to pounce. Yes, my midnight shadow is an animal of black fury, justice and retribution. It is full of fire and fight, ferociously fierce in its defence of all those beloved in my heart. It leaps with rippling rage into my head from the slightest of provocation, willing me to release it to tear, mame, and shred with powerful, unforgiving, dark, dripping jaws.
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