A/N: Before you begin to read, my friend has posted this somewhere before. So if you've read it before, that's the reason. The poem is not mine, its actually by a beautiful poet called Thom Gunn, the poem is called Tamer and Hawk. In this instance, Kurt is the Tamer and Karofsky is the Hawk.

I felt angry, scared and maybe mortified. I was reaching breaking point. Why couldn't he see that I cared? Did he really see me as ugly? I keep hurting him, breaking his small body in two each time. I need to stop. I want to stop. But I can't.

His body is trembling with fear; my body is trembling with fear, anger, and confusion. As selfish as it may seem, I care for him, more than myself, although my selfish behaviour does not allow me to show it.

"Stop, please." He pleads to me. He touches my hand, I want to pull away, I want to hurt him, but I can't. My body tenses. I want to run away, but my body won't let me move at the speed I want it too. It's like being drugged, just by the touch of his hands. I wish he could see that I care.

"Go, please." He looks me in the eye. Frightened, scared. I know that leaving is what I must do. I must leave to earn his respect. I leave. Still scared, and he is still breaking.

I thought I was so tough,
But gentled at your hands,
Cannot be quick enough
To fly for you and show
That when I go I go
At your commands.

He hates me, despises me. I can see he cares, but it pains him. I am free from his presence, but this makes me feel worse. I wish that I was in his grasp; I wish he was there to tame me. I long for his love, I long for his touch. With him, I felt safe.

Can others see me, like you see me? Can others see my ugliness, like they can see yours? Am I blind too you, am I blind to others? Your words leave me muddled. Am I ugly, not just mentally, but physically? What must I do, to be accepted by you? Your words leave me diffident.

Even in flight above
I am no longer free:
You seeled me with your love,
I am blind to other birds?
The habit of your words
Has hooded me.

I continue on. In my head, I know that I'm doing is right. But deep down I feel lost, empty, strangling in self-pity. Is it selfish for a boy to want love? Is it selfish for a boy to loathe the touch of another? Is it selfish to want to feel?

I turn on my heel, I walk back to him. My hand reaches out gently. I reach, I catch your wrist. With force, but I do not push.

As formerly, I wheel
I hover and I twist,
But only want the feel,
In my possessive thought,
Of catcher and of caught
Upon your wrist.

You don't move, you don't flinch, but you smile. My heart melts. I let go of his wrist, and he holds my hand. I feel tamed, nervous and strange. I look up; his eyes are deep, in passion, strength and courage. I don't want the moment to end; I want his touch to linger on. I fear its end will lead to pain. I choose him, if he chooses me. He tamed me.

But now I realise, that it can't work. He was my prey. I must let him go. If I don't he won't ever want me, he won't ever keep me.

You but half civilize,
Taming me in this way.
Through having only eyes
For you I fear to lose,
I lose to keep, and choose
Tamer as prey.