The Wolf, the Tiger, and the Fox

There was a wolf, with a troublesome past

Who became fond of a particular fox

The fox and the wolf would play with no avast

Until the sun set on the land

The wolf then wooed the fox and lo

The fox had fallen for the wolf

They danced with sweet adagio

A world of happiness afoot, and in their hands

The flagrant tiger was a commanding beast

Who, to the wolf, was  just as a brother

They’d known each other a year at least

Not a blade of grass between them

The wolf, the tiger, and the fox

A destructive force, this trio

Their kinship strong, though heterodox,

Something crucial was brummagem

The wolf had come to realize it wicked,

that his love was fabricated.

He knew not that he could not love amidst

His troublesome present

The relationship the wolf had made with the fox

Was now soon to be sporadic

There is no fixative that holds or locks

Two raging stars in mutual discontent

The wolf had no reason to restrict

The fox’s range of freedome, so

He to the fox made him self derelict

Though only in their love

The fox still found friendship

In the wolf’s downtrodden eyes

So they stayed together in close friendship

And held no troubles to think of

But the tiger and the fox, their friendship grew

Emotions in a short crescendo

It wasn’t long before both of them knew

There were more feelings to be had

The tiger unveiled his heart to the wolf,

And in it, there was the fox

It was uncanny, the feeling the wolf himself

Knew, in the tiger, it was entad

The wolf could see in the tiger’s eyes

There was guilt, and burden so heavy

He couldn’t bear to see the tiger’s suffering rise

To an inconceivable level

So he gave him his blessing

And gave her his blessing

And all were being blessed

But him.

So the wolf just let their interest grow

It was reassuring to see her happy

He wanted nothing more than for them to know

That their contentment was what he wanted

But as the days passed

The patience at last

Had come and passed

And his tolerance, cast

The wolf knows not what to do.

He has no one to turn to

Moves on to do what he needs to do

And hopes he can just forget.

The wolf is sick

He tears off his façade

The trident’s teeth have withered

Its bite is no more, therefore, farewell.

The wolf will once more make himself derelict, to preserve tranquility

For so long as the pitch fork thrives, the trident does not care to live.

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