Wolves in sheep’s clothing behind every door,
Watching, and waiting for souls to destroy.
Nowhere to run, only fear at each turn,
As they watch, and they wait, for the lovers return.
The lovers know nothing of hatred, no more,
Only joy pure as heaven, of light every dawn.
You’d think they’d know better, than to rest with such ease,
For the wolves are not strangers, Not wolves such as these.
Long, long ago, in the days of before,
The wolves had come knocking with smiles at her door.
She’d welcomed them in, ignoring the signs,
Of blood lust, and torture, and hate in their eyes.
The years came and went as the suffering grew,
Till pain and despair were all the girl knew.
Loneliness filled each moment, each breath,
Till she found love and solace, in the sweet arms of death.
The wolves laughed in triumph, and left her to die,
Not knowing the one thing, that would keep her alive.
The true love of man, was all it would take,
To rescue her soul, and their spell in turn break.
He came out of nowhere, and took her away,
Breathed life on her soul, kept the bad wolves at bay.
Gentle and loving, a welcome retreat,
In turn asking nothing, only love, pure and deep.
The lovers lived long, unaware of their plans,
As the wolves plotted silent, revenge in their hands.
No peace would she know, not if they had their way,
As they wandered in darkness, awaiting their prey.
Till one moonlit night, distant shadows she saw,
As she slept with her true love, the wolves from before.
Quickly she turned, but did not run away.
But stood strong, and determined, no longer afraid.
The wolves pounced in anger, their eyes filled with rage,
And as hope stood before them, a battle engaged.
Between good and evil, but no tears did she shed,
As she sent them to hell, with the souls of the dead.
Reah Roberts © 2009