The Wolf

The moon rises through the misty sky,
Stealing the wolfs drive
Taking all it wants
Giving the silver death below.

The wolf waits in the frozen grass,
Scattering its trash
Destroying beauty
Creating ash across the plain.

The hunter walks across no man’s land,
Forcing the wolf to bite its hand
The blood showers the lifeless grass
Absorbing the silver death

The moon cries at the silver war,
The sky rains blood tears
Bodies lay torn across the heaven
As ghosts howl to god.





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