Eight Lives Gone

Eight lives gone, and just one left.
I guess I'll never learn.
All eight ended, curtailed, and cleft,
'Cause I'm a tyger born to burn.

I need the rush. I need the high.
Take the speed times three.
One life left, so milk it dry.
To fight, to prowl, to bleed is me.

On my own feet, I always land.
I don't need "Turbo Boy."
When we teamed up, a thing unplanned,
He crushed my fire and joy.

He raised his nose, and dropped his guard.
"A kitten," he did belittle me.
Well, steel is strong, but just how hard?
I'll break him yet. He'll see.

One life left to run and soar.
Can't slow down. Can't give in.
One life left to scream and roar.
In the end, I...

Will...

Win.

Eight lives gone, and just one left.
I guess I'll never learn.
All eight ended, curtailed, and cleft,
'Cause I'm a tyger born to burn.

Can't remember the last time I even attempted poetry. At least 4 years ago. I was originally going to work this idea into a fic instead, but somehow this come out.

See if you can guess who's point of view this is. (If you can't it's probably not your problem. It's my lacking poetry skills.) The whole concept is based on a pun, and I'm trying to get at one of the competitive sides of the friendship.