He paces like a lion caged
Bares his teeth or growls
He waves his arms to frighten off
The unseen terror that in his mind prowls
Always looking for a place to run
Grips the wood with claws gone white
Or shuffles through papers of plans gone wrong
Hemming and hawing to get it right
Bares his teeth or growls
He waves his arms to frighten off
The unseen terror that in his mind prowls
Always looking for a place to run
Grips the wood with claws gone white
Or shuffles through papers of plans gone wrong
Hemming and hawing to get it right
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.

SMWells

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