To expect the best is to experience the worst,
For why I cannot tell.
It could be her inexplicable thirst,
Or endearing living hell.
You’d think, after so long
Of pretending and playing the game
She’d maybe sing her circus song
Better, with her renounced fame.
But being a clown who aspires to be
More than The Ringmaster’s puppet
Earns only bruises above the knee
And meals she can barely stomach.
Her relationship with him is bittersweet-
He helped her when she was lost
Threw her scraps of blood red meat
And kept her from winter’s frost.
Despite these things, the werewolf knew
One day how far she’d go,
For biting off more than you can chew
Is one way to end the show.
Copyright © Marina Charanza | Year Posted 2022
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