Lioness

I am a lioness you say.
I hunt for my pride, but I look in
boxes I had long put up for winter,
forgetting it was November. 

I am a lioness you say.
Blood drips from my muzzle
as I lope through the herd of
blissfully unaware sheep.

I am a lioness you say.
I dress myself daily in the wools
of my hunt from the day before,
being sure to hide my fangs. 

I am a lioness you say.
I am still hunting for my pride.
It seems you, one of the sheep,
has ripped it from me.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s