from the broken window on december midnight
the sun was leaking into the streets
of hand-me-down-avenue, house number fourteen
missy and the wolf danced a waltz
her wedding dress from when she was nineteen
her lips the color of blood, his eyes black as the smoke
from the burning house on december midnight
wolf screams woke the civilian streets
what a shame, the people said
the wolf was such a good man
what a shame, the neighbours wept
if only she had not gone mad.
what a waste, the mailman said
I could've saved myself a trip
what a waste, the wolves wept
what a waste of good fucking tits.
YOU ARE READING
there once was a woman who killed a wolf.
Poetryin the suburbs on december midnight there once was a woman who killed a wolf. he killed her joy so she killed him too. MATURE CONTENT. Please do not read if you have any triggers. much love xx
