Cry of the Hyeness (Poem)
I want to be her,
that smiling goth,
that preppy girl,
but she's not me.
If I were a vixen
who would my dog be?
Strong and secure?
No, not he.
But I am not a vixen.
No, I am a queen,
a matriarch
of a one-member clan.
And I am alone,
for I need no man.
He wanted a vixen
instead of a queen,
so he left me standing all alone
and went to gnaw a different bone.
How long 'til the wolf tires of fox flesh?
Wish I don't care,
for this I don't know.