In his house, with his horse outside he'd hide. Laid in the living room, boots on the mat beside.He sought a moment's peace, with eyes tightly shut. In a world where Little Red Hood's selfishness was a rut. He'd crossed her path often, their fates intertwined. Yet all he heard was her complaints, it seemed unkind. A knock echoed through the door, and he rose, fleet, boots on, ready to face a world where kindness sometimes dilutes.