The heart of the wolf rests in my chest.
Unaccustomed to the restraints of the human body,
She snarls and tears to be free of this prison.
Longing for the freedom to lope on four legs,
to serenade the moon,
to hunt with a pack and mate,
for life to be simpler.
For in the wolf pack,
She is the alpha bitch,
and She is the heart and soul.
However, this cannot be,
so She stirs in the confines of my human vessel.
Stuck to live out her life as me.
We long for the stretching of muscles,
the tearing of meat,
the heat of a mate,
and the familiarity of a pack.
She surfaces in dreams,
wild and untamed.
The wolf in me,
that is me,
haunts me forevermore.
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