I can feel you quake

Your heart running like a rabbit

Was it something in my smile?

In my voice?

I can hear the tremor in your voice

The way you clear your throat

Look away

They always look away

Is it something in my eyes?

A secret you didn’t want known

I can smell it on your breath

The acrid stench of bile and smoke

You stutter

Uttering one excuse or another

It’s no use

It never is

You’ve wandered to far

Little wolf

I’ll show you what real fangs are made for

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