The wolf who would be a sheep

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No pretence did this wolf need
except for being born to sheep
And to calm their incessant fears
He wore the wool and became meek.
But the heart of a hunter still did beat
and so he was found, standing over
a body in which no longer a heart beat.
Whom did they kill?
He who did what he did
Or those who said he
was not who, thought was he.
Their entreaties, their bleats
fell upon deaf ears.
And so they, the sheep, killed a wolf
just for being who he is.

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