America Has Wolves On It's Streets

On the street
Is where I am.
My vision,
watching them.

Wolves of orange to black,
filled with fury, fear, and revenge.
They frown or smirk
because they know what they have to do…

Prepare for battle!

They claw and claw at each other,
each of them fighting for territory and respect
or some of them
fighting for their loved ones, lost.

Some bark for victory
at their enemy smites.
Some growl because of fail
and some go away to Heaven or Hell.

When one type of wolf has won,
the battle ends.
To form the calmer times
but they are still of hate.

Calm, they are and
forming their separate packs.
Ones of white
and ones of different colors.

Exchanges are made
like money and coke
or grass
or even burning leaves.

They sniff and chew.
They drink and laugh.
But still they think
of the past battle of hate.

They learn anew
but still they fight.
Never will they be calm
until the others are smite.

So, I stand there
watching this
with disapproval and anger
in my eyes.

I walk away,
wishing the hate of the wolves will end
and them, live in peace
or the sort.

But I know,
even though I hate it,
that the war of the wolves
will never end.





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