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Writer's pictureBrianne Chaney

I placed my shaking hand

I placed my shaking hand

over the pain of the fresh wound upon my chest.

Stranded in the pit I'd fallen into,

overwhelmed by the deception I had faced.

I had danced with the Prince too late into the night,

and I watched him become the wolf,

just as the old tales

on the fantasy shelves had warned about.

Huddled in my shame,

I felt weak.

It was from deep within the chaos

that I looked up and saw your outstretched hand,

and I heard your soft understanding voice.

A hero to redeem my fall,

I rushed to grab my chance at safety.


But as you pulled me from the ditch,

I felt a sudden tremble

as I saw that you too,

had the eyes of the wolf.

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