Sharper Teeth

The end


Of his life approached from behind


Straight through the wall he cowered against


The shadow


Of our hate-tinged body swallowed him once again


His last light of hope sizzling into infinitesimal nothingness


The weapon


That beat him off the right path


Shone in another pair of innocent eyes


The strength


He once bore so fiercely in the face of fire


Now burnt to a feeble crisp by human embers


The fur


He had left was mangled and coarse


One flea for every time we neglected him


The truth


Is that monsters cannot bear four legs, but two


They have pointed at those with sharper teeth since


The beginning
 

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