They told me maybe if I was nicer,
then better things would happen -
they told me
maybe if I was softer,
people wouldn’t leave.
Sometimes I wish I was.
But I was born with wolves in my chest
that taught me to howl every night,
I was raised on pins and needles
and I befriended sharp edges.
I’ve learned to spit words of venom because
being the snake is better than being the mouse -
and history shows us that
people don’t tread on snakes.
They tell me to be softer -
but I will always be the rocks
that are thrown at glass houses.