Poem: Sheep In Wolf’s Clothing

A poem about how the power shifts in fights.

Who actually wins in the fight?
I’ve never really been in one. I’m
not the fighting kind. But what I
Remember is when my ex best

friend punched me hard in the
face — it hurt. But he was
the one running, crying, out the
door and off into the street. His

werewolf rising. My silver bullet
too much for him — and just
enough for me. I don’t make
the rules but I reckon I won that

one. I took that punch with all
his might. He gave me back
the power. Right then and there
and now…forever.