Still for now.
Soon to be raging,
I wait on, though the others are being chosen one by one.
All the same.
Their opportunities on the open palm,
Snatched away in the last moments.
But mine will be different.
For those eight long friends,
I will stride where others have not.
Keeping to what suits me best.
My name is called, and slowly,
The gate of opportunity is opened,
The hand within my grasp,
And the beast unleashes.