Poetry

Wound No Kill (#215)

Am I really a wolf that’s big and bad?
Or is it all hair when I get upset and mad?
Me standing above you and you underneath,
I’m growling at you and baring my teeth,
My paws have you pinned to the ground,
Your rapid heartbeats, the only sound,
I eye your throat and think to lunge,
And yet I cannot quite take the plunge,
I have no qualms about tearing your flesh,
And watching you squirm and thresh,
But make the kill I can’t quite seem to do,
It would seem I still tend to care about you,

Any Thoughts?

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