Hyenas on Main Street.
I didn’t even blink.
Prowlers like any other.
Why should it surprise
That they want their piece
Of our abundant prize?

Skittering yowls
Echo down the alleyways.
Prey taken by the pack.
A chaotic offering under the night sky
That could never appease
Or silence even one desperate cry.

For a society to persevere
It needs a spine.
A structure to hold strong.
Ours was doomed, foretold long ago,
Though it took decades to become clear.
The hyenas don’t rush, because they know.

© 2022 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

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