I’m not here to take the pain
To shelter you from the storm again
I’m not here to suffer the blame
To confront the fire that can’t be tamed
No, I’m here on my own accord
With an agenda, I forewarn
I’ll take the bull right by the horns
Throw him into a garden of thorns
So that he may wriggle his way out
Escape, feeling accomplished and proud
Become the Bull that I can announce
That he’s ready to be set free, rejoicing sounds
Instead, this bull got comfortable and relaxed
He did not run, he stood there perplexed
He took one look at the thorns and compressed
Them into crumbs — I was slightly impressed
He then set out to consume the leaves
A few at a time, he chewed slowly
By the time the patch was thoroughly empty
He had enough space to fall asleep.
And that is how I made a friend:
He consumed the weapon — didn’t fight nor defend.
MG
The Curious Adventures of Gordan's Thoughts 
Hmmmm. Did not expect the last two lines. I was seeing you as the Hero. The one who kept it real with the Bull; straight to the point. Then when he got comfortable, I began to think you would feel defeated. Nope. You admired him. Interesting. I will have to save this one for my reading in a different mind set.
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Yes, the twist at the end surprised me, too, as I wrote it. Thought it was an interesting paradox though
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