In this false future of Nazi costumes
my friends and I wear gas masks
rendering us unrecognizable on a playgound.
We are called a wolf-pack
and you, Red, are nothing but bait
to test my sense of duty.
You resemble a young girl I knew
and failed to kill. They picked you out,
called you a terrorist, ran you ragged.
Named you her sister.
And again, as a dog returns
you know I will chase you, your basket
of weaponry, your red hood
into the darkness. You will be hurt,
and I, unable to save you,
the one to fire the shot,
unable to leave the pack,
a shadow wolf, gnawing his own leg to bone.