So I put on the pretence of ‘the good kid’.

I put on a tender façade.
Like a lamb, still and poised in the flock,
I accept all the hay presented before me,
Chew, digest, and repeat.
I listen, my muzzle bowed
Upon my fluffy fleece,
Letting you sift through and shear it when you need.
I assume this gentle guise,
Become the good child, a lamb
Lawed by silence, refraining from speech.

But this layer of skin, much like
Kraft paper around a fire,
Remains far from quenched,
But feeds on the paper,
Consuming its natural fuel and blazes up.

“How dare you cross that line,
How dare you play silent,
The dirty trick. You think you are
Greater? Smarter? Stronger?
That you could debase my reason into
Hilarious hysteria, by feigning deafness?
How dare you not speak.”