Territory marked,
Dogs circle and bark,
Backs arched
and mouths part with that hallmark foam,
And she can only watch
them posture,
sidelined imposter
fostering the hope
that they long disowned,
But it’s all for show,
And in the battle throes,
As the guttural drum beats grow,
When Chaos takes the throne
(Erebus in tow),
All that’s known
is that
this
poor
bitch
won’t be thrown a bone.
Serena Malcolm 
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