No, I’m sorry
I’m not Red Riding Hood
I don’t run away from the wolfs
For men are those who hunt

Wolfs lives in pack
Men **** them
Weapons against Nature
And you want me to choose?

Red Riding Hood had snacks
For her sick grandmother
I have anger in a small bundle

A woodsman once used his tool against me,
I remember it well,
I never forgot

Cries and violence
And the wolf
Drawn here by my blood,
The smell of it

He came to me,
And not in me as some men do,
with glowing eyes
that saw in the Night.

He had approached me carefully first
as no one ever did the child I still was…
Not any place for pretends

Not too close, not too far
Tail and nose lowered closer to the ground
Gentle sounds coming out of his throat.

He came to me slowly
So I wouldn’t be afraid
And silenced my fears by being

A whining cub I could have been
As he licked my cheeks
Telling me with our bonded Hearts
That with him, I was safe.

By his sides
I returned often
I still do
Each time I need to make my choice.