you walk in the woods to throw food to the wolves.
sometimes no-one comes, things go into a lull.
or some come to eat, but they stick to the shade,
and leave as they came, quietly, no fuss made.
or maybe you'll find that your work's in demand.
they come up to thank you and lap at your hand.
some lick the plate clean, tail wagging, bright-eyed,
then scamper behind, eager for your supply.
some sneer, bark, and snicker, and mock what you do.
they don't care for the meal, they hunger for you.
salivate for your hurt, your offense and your rage,
but pay them no mind and they'll lumber away.
other beasts bark all night, howl and scratch at your door.
"you don't feed us enough! why've you not made any more?"
there is plenty else elsewhere, but they act as if starved,
the greedy and ignorant things that they are.
nonetheless, you grow comfortable, feeding your pack.
you've formed a connection, you provide what they lack.
but in your success you must never forget,
you are being watched. not all dogs make good pets.
they are all around, no sense watching your back.
these ones won't come red-eyed, sharp-toothed, and fur black.
they'll sing of your values, of kindness and truth,
then trawl through your past, for some pretense of proof.
they come up beside you, smile innocently,
ask, "what's your opinion on X, Y, or Z?
say, are you a safe one? one that i can trust?
for i'd be corrupt to walk with the corrupt.
and if there are unsightly things that we find,
you're guilty! abuser! bad takes! sick of mind!
you're guilty still, even if we come up blank;
we'll still feast on you if the story is faked!"
darling, be wary. be yourself, but be wise.
you are not protected by your DNI's.
no life you can lead is so peaceful and pure
that trouble for-sure will not knock at your door.
if this is a path that you still wish to take,
you must grow accustomed to teeth at your nape.
there is no solution. endure or escape.
thus are the terms to share what you create.
i'll try to stay, but if you need to flee,
take with you well wishes. no judgment from me.
- brak 4-19-25