They see you a little too human,
A wolf dressed in Granny’s nightcap is still a wolf
Beyond the surface, the claws and teeth remain.
Cornered in the wolf’s den.
Screaming ‘til my throat is numb,
Countering every step to keep the space between us.
Doesn’t anyone hear me?
Isn’t anyone listening?
We can’t do anything unless the wolf attacks,
It’s not fair to the animal, they deserve second chances, too.
That’s all well and fine, and I’ll remind you when this happens to you.
When the wolf scratches her skin, and tears her limb from limb.
Wounds can heal, but there’s always scars.
Painful reminders of the time no one came through,
She cried for help, but what did you do?
We’ll scold the wolf, and reform his evil way.
A slap on the wrist, “be nice Mr. Wolf!
Now, go, and be on your way.”
This summer has been all about getting back to things I used to love. One of those things is writing. Another one of those things is not being afraid of what others think/will say. The pieces I would call my better work have stemmed from some heavier times. I never put them out there because I was afraid of the reaction they would get. Not any more. I’m getting back to being me, and that means honesty. This is something I wrote about 3-4 years ago.
Slowly, but surely,
The work. The demands. The expectations.
Why did I sign up for this?
Isn’t life more than this?
Never being done,
Barely getting by.
A little sleep, but never rest.
One thing after another.
How far can I stretch?
How long can this last?
The house of Truth.
Feeding into the lies.
Smothering that little flame inside.
Do they know what they do?
Do they even care?
They take credit for my good,
And blame me for their worst.
A momentary lapse of consideration,
leaves me stabbed once more.
Will I ever make it out?
Will I make it out alive?