I am Me
Wailing for her demon lover, she knows nothing about these woods
Daring the devil to snatch her from clutches of midnight she howls truth
Wolves answer her with appreciative baying of their own.
Was she a she-wolf, a werewolf or a gray wolf? She laughed at herself.
The shadows of the night danced like furious fodder around her
Was she an empath? A wife or a wild woman who can transmogrify?
Maybe a touch of all three; a Gemini, which explains her a bit.
A gray entity was heading her way, but it was thwarted by the night sky.
She had a knack for finding the most grotesque and turning them.
Their evil into sand, their inspirations into aspirations.
Wild knows wild.
Her daddy said that about her when she was eight.
She put her arms out and twirled her essence into the path of a young girl.
There were snickers and dashes in the bits of the bush shadows now.
I am me, she said; relieved.
Eager to be….herself.
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