wolves

the worst are the wolves in sheep's clothing. the nice face that hides the hideous soul. the ugliness it is capable of. and as often as you look at it and wanna see what's behind it, you are blinded by the soft filters working to deceive you. the filters you invented yourself to make believe that life is wonderful. when i was sixteen or fifteen my father wanted to kill me. he said so. what makes someone say this? a man who makes me feel so wonderful at times. that this seems to be something so out of the order that i filed it away with "freaks of nature". a kind man. a melancholy man.

then there is the other kind. the sheep in wolves' clothing. the man i loved. still love of course. the ones who lash out at you to hide the loveliness they are capable of.

neither one suits me anymore.

be the wolf. be the sheep. but be. real. and true. to me.