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Literature Text
A ghostly glow in the black of the night
A constant drawing to that bright white light
Unbearable longing deep in my heart
To let her out
That wolf inside
She escapes, the prison gone
At once we start, to become one
A split second of pain
Burning, searing, ripping
Then black
As dark as night
Until...
I open my eyes,
To the brightness of life
My senses open, to the pure delight
Of soil beneath my paws
I tense, waiting for the moment
To set myself free,
With only my heart to lead
Weaving through the trees,
A ghost in the wood
At one with the forest
Until the moon goes down...
Now for the pain
Ice down my spine
Dreading the moment,
When I become blind
Losing myself
With every breath I take
Locked up once again
My wolf inside
A constant drawing to that bright white light
Unbearable longing deep in my heart
To let her out
That wolf inside
She escapes, the prison gone
At once we start, to become one
A split second of pain
Burning, searing, ripping
Then black
As dark as night
Until...
I open my eyes,
To the brightness of life
My senses open, to the pure delight
Of soil beneath my paws
I tense, waiting for the moment
To set myself free,
With only my heart to lead
Weaving through the trees,
A ghost in the wood
At one with the forest
Until the moon goes down...
Now for the pain
Ice down my spine
Dreading the moment,
When I become blind
Losing myself
With every breath I take
Locked up once again
My wolf inside
Literature
Who Cried Wolf? 1
Who Cried Wolf? Page 1
Okay...I'm sorry if I'm freaking out.
I mean, here I am, hands shaking, hair flying in my face, hardly able to stand on my own two feet.
I had always been level headed, always the logical thinker. All throughout high school my friends would constantly rely on me and my pretty little thoughts that calmed them during the most stressful of times.
I was also the friend--for some reason--that men would share their feelings with, how much they loved me, how much they spent their days dreaming of us.
Those were the times I regretted. I couldn't make them happy. I couldn't force myself to love them back as hard as I tried.
Literature
Still a Werewolf at Heart
To be free, a concept for that people have fought and died over for centuries but what does it really mean? We call ourselves a ‘free society’ but it seems as if we are nothing more than slaves. Slaves to debt, slaves to fashion, slaves to society’s expectations but most of all, slaves to the mistakes of our pasts. But what does it truly mean to be free? Is it wrong of me to want to want to get away from all the pressure and restrictions to live a life of pure independence? It was these ‘cabin fever’ like feeling which led me to fall in love with werewolves.
I have always been interested in animals but it
Literature
Gift of Wolf
Trapped in this god forsaken form,
squirming beneath the skin.
The moon calls my name,
yet I am unable to answer her voice.
Silently wishing release,
unable to fit in with the human society.
In the confines of a two-legged body,
I scream to be let free.
I wish for the night,
to run as my true self.
To some I walk a fires blaze path,
Damned for eternity to the Pit.
To me, I am cursed yet gifted,
Cursed to the form of human,
But gifted in what I truly am.
Let they who have understanding know I am wolf.
This I am, make no mistake.
Blessed be.
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I was bored one night.. So I wrote a poem about a werewolf. My first poem in years so definitely not my best.
© 2011 - 2024 Nanauk
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I like it, good work