Wolf Slaying as a Hobby - Stepdad

Mama’s bearing her fangs right at me

Cool cubs wearing their fear like acne

Every time I flash a glare its power knocks shock waves through their hair

Eyes bleed while my Claymore catches moonlight

Now every time I get a little brave it bends me out of shape

Every time I catch a little break I’m dying to escape

Traps sprung flailing bones and muscle

Weaponizing teenaged hustle

My bark nearly matches theirs, its wisdom and strength frightens bears

But the cross bow lies not dormant as their statuesque teeth.

As projectiles misfire, as unsteady hands wield the blade

My lips shake as brush felled by the winds mighty tongue

Mother shan’t be burying her young tonight

Now every time I get a little brave it bends me out of shape

Every time I catch a little break I’m dying.