The Wolf


There's a wolf in my heart that wants to get out
but I don't let him, I won't let him,
because wolves are not dogs -
they have not yet been tamed, or lamed, by man.

There's a wolf in my heart that is pleading to get out
but I ignore his whines
because this is a world of hors d'oeuvres and fine wine,
and aloneness is synonymous with loneliness.

There's a wolf in my heart that lays down so I'll let him out
but I can't deal with him right now
because we're supposed to look up at the stars of our dreams
not at the earth under our feet.

There's a wolf in my heart that stays silent so I'll let him out,
but I say “No stay, sit. I'll let you go when the others leave”
because I can't afford to let them see my unease
when we've all been trained as busy worker bees.

There's a wolf in my heart that responds to his name and me
and so I let him out, and I say, “Alright, you're free”
because everyone has left me; I'm all alone and my time has come,
but he doesn't: he's no longer the wolf in me.
He's just another dog and I'm just another product of society.

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