The Boy Who Cried Wolf

There was once a beautiful boy
Who cried "Wolf", every night.
He would tell everyone he saw
Of the animals azure eyes,
The throat-gripping terror and fright.

His friends and lovers came in droves
With sticks & words, threats and stoves.
They loved his beauty and wanted him safe
Of the menacing claws, he said lived inside

a cave.

Every night with will anew,
They waited and plotted beatings
Black and blue.
Nights turned to dusk
Lovers to strangers,
Days to years,
The wolf never came
His stories they couldn't bear to hear.

So lived the gorgeous boy,
Icy winter nights alone.
Still muttering about the wolf,
So beastly and regal, it needed a throne.

He spoke about its glistening fur,

Razor sharp claws, yellowed breath

And treacherous purr.

How the wolf would howl every night,

At a monstrous moon

Far away and stark bright.

He heard its padded steps

From miles away.

Horrified by the wildness

Its softly heaving chest would betray.

Alone, the boy with the beautiful smile
Died
In time to realise
The wolf only ever howled inside.

                                             (Picture inspiration: my favourite neighbourhood cafe, and my corner to read)