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Caroline Oct 8
Every day, I'm just trying to make it.

Things fall apart constantly.
Cracks appear in solid walls and
The wolves wait at the door
For a weak moment to pounce
And demand
What I don't have to give.

I'm holding us together by the skin of my teeth
I'm holding them up
With broken limbs
And the whole thing is shaking
Like some snow globe
Whose glass is too **** thin
And on the inside is the most beautiful scene.

I can easily see what it would look like
Painted across the firmament.
I can easily see what it will look like
In pieces on the pavement
Snow flakes and
Little hopeful stars
Smashed into the dirt

When the thing is tossed like trash
Because fate doesn't really give a ****
And it is all up to us
Alone
To walk that road
Alone
And make it
Or don't.

My little one is fevered and laying across my knees
And I remember the time he was hooked to machines
And the medical industry never blinked
When the bill was more than our income for a year.

The powers that be really don't care.

All of these little ones deserve a hero.

How easy it would be to talk myself up,

But the honest to God truth is,

I don't know if I can be one.
Yet, for my babies,
I'll die trying.

Dedicated to all of the mommies and daddies who fight to keep the wolves away from the hearts of little ones. They see you fighting for them, and in that, they know they're loved <3

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pYdvxBxHX2U
lua Oct 5
i feel their eyes on me as i walk along the street
their mouths hung agape, panting like dogs
like a wild pack of wolves
hungry
ready to pounce
ready to strike
ready to ****
i lower my head in fear
my heartbeat quickens as it sinks to my stomach
i walk and i walk and i walk
i run and i run and i run
and when i turn my head over my shoulder
i don't see them behind me
but i watch them from afar
each howl and snarl that slither through the cracks and gaps between jagged teeth
their blood stained paws move to the side
and i see it
i see it
i see it!
it was another wolf!
but it had collapsed
and when i turned my head to the side
all i saw was teeth marks
and red
red
red.
it was a traitor
spine tingles
and cracks
a Goddess
somewhere
finds me in
a crystal ball

i howl at the
empty sky
hoarse scream
into a single
star

some meaning
must come of
all this

or i'll just be
a yowling
ragged
cat
in the yard.
working on my word flow and word choice specifically. might edit soon.
Dayna Aug 23
Down by the watermelon patch, where the wild watermelon grew, only my brother and I ever knew. Knew where the watermelon patch was, knew where it grew. In the woods far beyond, where the wolves lived too.
Katherine Jan 23
There are houses on this street filled with wolves.
He-wolves and she-wolves and wolf-whelps howling for meat
Scattered like snowflakes across the neighborhood.
It starts slow, and ends with “I lost my temper” “It was their own fault”
“All the better to see you with, my dear.”
Some of us are eaten up, and some of us grow wolves in our own bellies,
And some last long enough to meet our wolves down the line.
What does it matter if you become the wolf or not?
What narratives are left to us now?
Hello Daisies Jul 30
I want to dance
Dance with wolves
Under the stars
Swirling around
Brim stones burning

I hear the howling
I fear the growling
The Sparks around
Crumble beneath the ground

Up here I dissapear
There's too many
I'm a lone wolf
Always dancing alone
I've emptied my own pond

It was never deep enough
Too shallow to share
Everyone became bare
Found an ocean
Swam into it
Paddled away happily

I want to dance with wolves
Around the warmth of the moon
Warming trust
Becoming stronger
My pain lingers
Only gaps in my fingers

This heart inside me
It's cold and empty
It's so common to say
Be that it may
But..
Doesn't mean it hurts any less
Who must I impress
How much can I press
That I'm scared
I'm so alone
I just want to know
I want to be shown
Love and comfort
But I've lost

So much of me
It's too late
I lost any chance
Of dancing
With others
Happily

Help me
Please God
Someone save me
It hurts so much
I can not hide it with silly metaphors
Break the code
Break the show
I'm broken
I'm hurting
I'm unable to love
Unable to believe in up above

Please God let my soul rest
I cannot stress
How much
Everything ******* hurts

   My dreams are dark
I'm tired of "wolves"
Of pretending
I just want
The final ending

Please
:(
Jessie Latham Jul 23
there are two
libras
(or were they wolves?)
there is a fight inside
of me

which one do I have
courage to
starve
& which one do I
feed?


down this gravel
I know I've
been
so frequently
before

do I walk
stability
or one that's
been at
war?


felt I have the
loving hands
of the former's gentle
grace

but touched was I
by the latter's wit
& the dreams
of his embrace


there are two
libras
(they might be wolves)
that follow me
today

the one the wind
will always
love


& the one it
cast away
fray narte Jun 25
These aren’t words;
these are the wolves
that clawed their way
out of my chest.
Cassia Jun 6
The rain, it whispers
My love, can't you hear?
Are you deafened by darkness?
Are you blinded by tears?

The wolves, they are howling
My love, can't you hear?
Does the fire howl louder?
Can't my words calm your fears?

Your heart, it is crying
But my love, I am here
In the shadows of nighttime
I hold you so near…
Du du du...
Chris Saitta May 26
Blow, Lyceum grasses, blow,
From coiled lips of your wolf-god Apollo
Whose dawn-padded paws to starprints roam
This temple-tribute to thought-illumined roads.  

Blow, Lyceum grasses, blow
Of wave upon wave of your brushings-by,
From staff to sandal-fall to cloak hemline,
For rhapsodes, your song-odyssey to sew.

The Greeks built the sun,
Upon scaffolding~acrobaticon~  
With pear-skinned lightness to glow,
Or like leavened bread from the woodburning stove.

Blow, Lyceum grasses, blow,
The sun lies old on its famine-cracked pillow,
In spittle of gold and yellowed phosphorous,
With the gods past-blown to ruin.
The Lyceum, known for Aristotle’s peripatetic school (or walking school of thought), served as a temple dedicated to Apollo, who has been known as the God of Light, Poetry, and Wolves, among many other things.  “Rhapsodes” were verse singers, or stitched-song singers, in the Lyceum and Ancient Greece.  Scholars believe Homer’s works were sung this way.
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