the lion stands proud
on the edge of the abyss
with its increasing prowess
it is never the same

its flaws
infect
an unwritten tapestry
waiting to be written

sinew woven
delicately
in his hard eyes
a pain of the past

( b.d.s.)

i stand trembling,
as i hold a gun
to the forehead
of my fears
grasp unsteady-
breathing calm
waiting and waiting
each precious second
as it slips away

a mirror
appears
a cloak of safety, so clear
i am not human

my reflection
dares me to shoot
teases me with
its echoing laughter
its voice tantalizes
me
it knows i am weak
it chuckles because
it knows my
every move

forever
its servant of image
reputation and impurity
meek and humble
like a mouse

i cant do it
i let the gun slip
from my hands
my clumsy doing


i am the girl
who cried wolf
into the darkness
i was only screaming

about the wolf of my own thoughts.