Bite.

Fury shines bright from the hazel
Eyes, the little flecks of green
Now seem feline, angry and
Ready to strike out. The pupils
Are shrunken down, mere
Pin-pricks of calm amidst the
Shocking chaos of hatred.

Yet the mouth smiles, a curving
Of the lips which may seem sincere,
Don’t believe it though, this
Seemingly happy facade is actually
A snarl, be prepared to be bitten.
Her voice is weaker than her
Bite.

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