Trapper Mr. White

Soft muffles escape from the gap of my canines. 

Colorful lies, childish liabilities. 

Devoured what was thrown in front of me by not so gentle hands. 

Devotion is the name of a circus play, ladies and gentlemen. 

“Do bite or go get bitten” was written 

for the next curtain. 

Exposure of my wound-rough skin brought up no emotions 

among senseless audiences. 

Here I stand in the middle, spotlight chasing the beat. 

No grandiose fur, just baring my pearly white teeth. 

I will taste the thick necks testing my loyalties. 

Grand finale applauds will blend with screams. 

The feast of ascension begins in tober, for my ungodly beast.