White Wolf

Moon like a dinner plate
Cleans him of his shackles
Sets him free of worry and consequence
He is beast
Grinning with pearly fangs
Laughter shakes shaggy fur
Claws crack concrete
As he sprints through the streets
He is unfettered
As he mows down a man
An innocent man
Maybe clad in sheepskin
He would've pretended to be sorry
The town rallies
Torches burn the black sky as they cry "no more"
They try to clip his claws and file his teeth
But his kind are uncontrollable
By design
And once again
The white moon shines

This poem is about: 
My country


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