Wolf in sheep’s clothing
As if a wolf could ever be as
as a sheep.
A wolf never craves a hunger for
in such an eager way
as the shattered, twisted heart
of a lamb
watching unabashedly as you claw for a breath
just one gasp of clean air
that isn’t tainted by
the acidic stench of its heavy fleece.
What if its pure coat is nothing more than a facade of
Snow is only beautiful when you aren’t suffocating in it.
Only the gleaming teeth of the wolf
are what they seem to be.
Perhaps it hurts
but it’s better than
cold, black eyes of a lamb
are watching you heartlessly
while you drown.