For the Throat
Her maker is waiting as she returns to the den
Later than usual, where could she have been
The maker sits quietly awaiting submission
The alphess approached slowly with heavy suspicion
When no ear prick nor tail sign showed any reproach
For the throat of the alphess, her maker approached
The alphess allowed one bite to sink in
Before she lashed out herself, a rage from within
Thirsting for blood and obtaining no less
The alphess tore a large hole in the makers chest
The maker staggered back to examine the hole
Her heart was exposed, and behind it her soul
Angry from weakness, angry from pain
Her maker barked out a furious refrain
The alphess then realized the pain she had caused
But nothing could be said to give her maker pause
So the alphess said nothing, she just trotted on by
Leaving her maker just laying there, soon to bleed dry
Apologies were made in the following days
Both realizing slight errors in their ways
A point was still made and forever shall be
When she is united with her alpha, her maker will see
Copyright © Sierra Hill | Year Posted 2010
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