Teeth I should not have.

EXPLANATION CONTEXT; this is a reference to early exposure to adult content.



I was born a lamb in a den of wolves.

Soft wool wrapped in the scent of someone i could not protect myself from.
They fed on sheep like me, their teeth carving truths i would always believe.
I was too small to question, too young to wonder what i was shown.

Their fangs would graze my trembling hide occasionally,
Not enough to break, but enough to sting and make me remember.
And when their hunger turned away me,
I learned to watch the biting, learned it meant belonging to my family.

One day, I snapped back—just a nip.
Tiny, harmless, yet met with pride from my innerself.
So I bit again, and again,
Until my own mouth dripped with something warm, until i felt like my childhood wonder was filled.

Then, they took me away—to the safety of sheep i recognized only by blood,
Where the air was still, the fields were kinder.
But I gnawed at the softness, at the peace in a frantic search for what i recognized,
Teeth aching for something I should not want, should never have recognized.

I dulled against their quiet world with a sinking sense of self,
My fangs grinding down to nothing by force of the other sheep i swore enemies.
But inside, I burned—
For the bite, the taste, the hunger I thought was home.

And then I saw—
Saw the twitching in my own unstable reflection.
Saw my wool, no longer wool that i believed protected me from the danger i could become,
But fur thickened to hide the shame of the inevitable.

My teeth are sharper than they should be, I know.
My eyes linger where they should not, I can't help it.
And now I stand, neither lamb nor wolf,
Terrified of what I may become, or even worse, what i can't stop.

So I wrench my jaws apart,
I file my fangs down to dust.
it helps nothing i fear,

i only begin to gaze at sweet lamb the same as before, and feel my teeth sharpen instinctively.