There’s a wolf in my heart that
wants to get out
but I don’t let him,
I won’t let him,
because wolves are not dogs -
they have not yet been tamed, or lamed, by man.

There’s a wolf in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m scared of him,
of what he will do to those I love,
if I take off one day and never look back.

There’s a wolf in my heart that
is pleading to get out
but I ignore his whines
because this is a world of hors d’oeuvres and fine wine,
and aloneness is synonymous with loneliness.

There’s a wolf in my heart that
lays down at my feet so I’ll let him out
but I can’t deal with him right now
because we’re supposed to look up at the stars of our dreams
not at the earth under our feet.

There’s a wolf in my heart that
nuzzles me, licks me, doesn’t howl or bark at me
so I’ll let him out,
but I say “No, stay, sit. I’ll let you go when the others leave”
because I can’t afford to let them see my unease
when we’ve all been trained as busy worker bees.

There’s a wolf in my heart that
responds to his name and acquiesces to my demands
and so I let him out,
and I say, “Alright, you’re free”
because everyone has left me; I’m all alone and my time has come,
but he doesn’t: he’s no longer the wolf in me.
He’s just another dog and I’m just another product of society.