Unrestrained Curiosity

December 22, 2007
Your manipulative immaturity,
concealed like a hijackers gun.
Floating at the surface,
waiting for intimidation to strike.

Then you're up on your feet,
spikes bristling at the scent
of your secret being unearthed.

Your eyes narrow and blacken.
Your skin becomes thick and sharp.
Your chest heaves in and out,
expecting the attack.
You search for the danger,
waiting to strike.

I think that would be my cue.

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