I am a hunter.
I search for the freshest of meat and devour it until there is nothing left
I tend to go for a specific kind of meat with specific traits
I like my meat to be smaller and weaker because they are easiest to kill.

My hunting ground is never ending.
I am ensured new hunting grounds about every 3-7 years so my meat never expires.
I remember the first time I hunted
I was very young, I wasn't big yet so it was harder but I eventually grew strong and my game grew weak.

I wasn't always a hunter
I was the meat at one point
At first I didn't notice
When the kids would snicker and throw stuff at me
I thought the laughing wasn't about me but about the funny movie everyone liked
Or that the throwing wasn't intentional, or that it was all a harmless game

One day I was by myself
A kid had a special little knife and a fist
He said we could play together
He called the game " beat the pork"
I was the pork
He was the hunter
He started with a large chop with his fist to my pork belly
But I was too strong

He finished off with slices on my pork belly
Then to my limbs
My back
My face
Since then, I knew this was no game

For years, I was the target
I was the kid picked last
I sat in the back
I was the "Russian Pig"
I was the one with the noose in my hand
Or the gun to my head
It was me

Eventually, I knew I had to give them what they deserved.
One by one I killed them off
Bribing, hitting, stabbing,
It was all part of my plan
Until I could see them be picked last
I could see them in the back
They were the pigs
They had the noose in their hands
Or the guns to their heads
For once,
It was them.