Fight or Flight

[Keith]

Of cracked walls, I am born
Scratching, biting and beaten
Moved my position to keep warm
Hunger rides my frame
Blind sibling fights for survival
Losing grip I do the same,
No cover comfort here,
No swelling in my stomach
Should my ground be guarded,
before tumble turns to hurt
stretch my neck to be noticed
against yellow gnashing jaws
the calm of night, flight.