THE SHEEP ARE FROLICKING ABOUT, TO AND FRO WITHOUT A CARE IN THE WORLD.
ONE SHEEP, DAZED IN THE CORNER OF THE OAK WOOD FENCE, STARES AT ALL THE OTHER SHEEP, WAITING, WAITING, WAITING, FOR THE MOMENT.
TO POUNCE.
A WOLF IN SHEEPS CLOTHING, HIS SNEER AND SCOWL SO FIERCE IT PIERCES THE HEARTS OF MANY.
MY STOMACH REQOILS IN HORROR FROM THIS TERRIBLE INCIDENT.
WHAT KIND OF WORLD ARE WE IN?
YOU ARE READING
EXPRESSIONS
PoetryI LIE IN DUST AND ASHES, my corpse withers next to you, my love ©2017 WREN #663, #503, #582, #475, #300, #294,#251, #210, #189, #158, #146, #234, #341, #405
