wolf

Our world is filled
with the stench of death
the wolf was never at the door
it was always inside
destroying everything
in fire and blood
in agony and falling buildings
killing, maiming and starving
babies and children,
women and old people,
the sick, the healthy,
the sane and the deranged
the poor and (rarely if ever) the rich
it has the mind of a psychopath
unrestrained by laws or morals
sometimes even applauded
Our world is filled 
with the stench of death 
I weep salt tears
but it isn’t enough.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

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