Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

–by becky WTGH

I’ve known something’s off for quite some time.

The others are fluffy, soft and nice.

I am huge, hairy, prickly and uptight.

They herd and they follow

I prowl, scowl and sneer.

To make matters worse,

I relax, I let loose, then–

Their eyes light with fear

Is it because I’m queer?

Or is it because —

I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing,

I have to prowl, growling is what I do.

I’ve been treated me like a predator my whole life.

Accused of man-hating, self-hating

All varieties of being “not-alright”

I’ve been correcting myself,

repressing myself !

Trying to act just so, just right.

I put on the sheep costume,

do my hair all-white.

Take one look at me, and you’ll know it

I’m a wolf, through and through–

Doesn’t take a reveal to show it.

They call me a sheep–

They tell me to sheep–

I howl, in response.

It deeply offends me, you see;

A wolf cannot be a sheep,

No matter how much you raise it

To sing baa, to eat grass nice and neat.

I am a wolf !

I stink like one

My piss reeks and

I can’t mate with sheep–

I’ve tried–

Only wolves can fuck with me.

 

Next time they call me sheep;

It won’t bother me, and I won’t howl.

I’ll ravage, I’ll pillage

When I’m done with my fun,

I’ll huff, and i’ll puff

I’ll blow your house down, then—

I’ll say you misgendered me!

Right, now I’m the victim!

you’re very quick to point out.

Crying wolf, acting tough, only to

turn around, lay down and pout.

 

I worry I’ve got some sort of skin rash

putting on these sheepish-charades.

I haven’t been properly bathing–

Trapped in this fucking sheep suit 24/7.

Now I’m just pathetic–

a manbearpig trapped in a she-shed.

How could I forget–

I’ve started shedding.

Huge clumps of gray fur;

Chest, thigh, face, neck.

Drifting out of the sides of my suit,

itchy, scratchy, matted–unsettling.

They’ll know I’m a wolf, soon,

ready or not.

 

I am what mother warned you about.

A sinner, a singer, a charming delight.

Can wolves be faithful lovers ?

Or are they hunters,

Chasing stars in the night.

I don’t know who I am, I’ve never been

Out in full light.

Only once in a blue moon, do I ever feel right–

A wolf in sheep’s clothing,

I knew from the moment I heard, that

That’s what I was.

The boy who cried wolf

From inside her–

The one they call “she(ep)”


Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: