I have a dog with yellow fangs
     That lives inside my chest.
And when he sleeps, you'd never know
     That I was so possessed.

My voice moves soft as any voice
     Within a modest range.
But when he snarls, I hear a voice
     That's terrible and strange.

And when his eyes shine out of mine
     He makes my face his own.
I dare not look into a glass
     Lest I be turned to stone.

I cannot kill this evil thing
     That poisons all my life,
He lies so close against my heart
     I dare not use the knife.

*                 *                 *                 *                *

/MALVINA/mrp009.htm
This page copyright 2006 by Charles H. Smith and Nancy Schimmel. All rights reserved.

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