I am a sheep in Wolf’s clothing
With a silver-lined tongue
Looking everywhere for the one place
My sharp-toothed mask may be hung

My habits are more suited
For the habitat I inhabit
Thank my truest sense of self
Who longs to love the lonely rabbit

I speak words of poignant truth
That effervesce unbidden
From within my deepest reaches
The parts of me which I keep hidden

Sometimes the things I say
Are so bold and unexpected
I realize they were not needed
Only once I’ve genuflected

I see myself, since being here
And like not my pale façade
A man of faith, extended Grace
Pretends to be something he’s not.