Wolf Slaying as a Hobby

Mama’s bearing her fangs right at me
Cool cubs wearing their fear like acne
Every time I flash a glare its power knocks shock waves through their hair
Eyes bleed while my Claymore catches moonlight
Now every time I get a little brave it bends me out of shape
Every time I catch a little break I’m dying to escape
Traps sprung flailing bones and muscle
Weaponizing teenaged hustle
My bark nearly matches theirs, its wisdom and strength frightens bears
But the cross bow lies not dormant as their statuesque teeth.
As projectiles misfire, as unsteady hands wield the blade
My lips shake as brush felled by the winds mighty tongue
Mother shan’t be burying her young tonight
Now every time I get a little brave it bends me out of shape
Every time I catch a little break I’m dying.