Wolf Father

A coat of grays and blacks brissle and stand on edge as his muzzle curls into a snarl.

Best to stay clear because anything near will be thrown and crushed, and I stand by in a icy cold hush.

I turn frozen in fear, knowing im to scared act or interact  unless someone were to be attacked.

I'm only a half breed, no where nearly as strong as or crazed like the beast that rages inside him.

It's best to let him wonder, let him breath in his herbal weed, and I watch as his fur finally flattens down and his muscles finally relax,

Everything is lax. 

even his storms can cease, and at all all may seem good but the tension sticks onto me like sap from the pine tree.

He means no harm, but this hate, this hate that brews him into the beast,

that beast that just wants to destroy everything,

everything for him is anything that breathes and makes him feel weak.

His pride, 

that pride that ties him ties him to his integrtiy, his whole self being. 

It's all he feels is left, and he'll continue to defend that till his last breath.

I worry, this half breed of his. 

I worry his last breath will come too soon, 

or that the catcher wil catch him and he'll be too full or rage to be let free again.

I worry that his hate will only grow and grow till he is swollowed up whole, 

he'll be nothing but bitter and angry, that he'll have nothing else to feel.

I worry for this wolf father of mine, 

who's once wise head is shunned by hate,

and his loving heart caged by an ever growing rage,

His being swollowed by a false sense of pride.

I worry for this wolf father of mine.