Paper Tigers

Tiger, tiger, burning bright;
Made of paper, serves you right.
Tongue of steel but fluffy butt;
All you can give is a paper cut.
Proud of rank but courage scant;
Your middle name is psycho-phant.

Questions aplenty, answers none;
If we question, we are done.
Silent footsteps and hidden claws;
Playing us around with wicked laws.
When its good, you scowl and hover;
Trouble brews and you run for cover.

Tiger, tiger, burning bright;
Made of paper, serves you right.

Published by Anupam Choudhury

I'm a writer, editor, and blogger from New Delhi, India.

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