19 May 2012

It dripped with pain throughout these years,

The smell of hunters

Glare filled with tears,

Hid amongst the mourning moon

Though it's death was very soon,

The stripes were slit across it's back,

It were the cash that man had lack,

Coats, claws, teeth, and bone

It was extinction they had shown,

Though it's cries are heard today,

It's presence has been sent away,

You are nature's,

You cannot be mine,

Extinction of the Thylacine.

TippetteExtinction Of Thylacines • Opuss № I