Sheep in Wolf's Clothing I

You're trapped within the balck ice that is night,
My little lamb, my leaping, lupine lamb.
Your wide, wild eyes averted from the light,
Of flames that don't destroy, but say "I am."
The flock followed itself, aimless and blind,
For endless, pointless, dull and ovine miles.
You turned those wide, wild eyes and sparkling mind,
Towards a wolfish welcome that beguiled.
They promised they would teach you how to howl
To the hypotic silver of the moon.
Now,drooling, round you, bleating lamb, they prowl.
No rescuer emerges from the gloom.
For in the night, no one can hear your cries.
You search for light, none penetrates your eyes.

> Sisters