Erin Dawn Deneys
The Bad Wolf
The bad wolf trapped her far from home,
The dark hunter of fleshed dreams,
A shadowless prowler in the dark holes we dig,
In the long nights we spend to assure ourselves,
That our bodies will never be found.
Yet blame the tree, blame their leaves.
For their shelter held no protection for her,
Even deeper were the woods of his mind,
Even darker and more twisted were the trees that held his thoughts.