Shadows prevail over the misty moon, obscuring the milky light,
Quietude prevelant but the for the tree trunk's croon, in the tenebrous of the night,
A grey wolf's howl in the murky wood sends shivers up the spine,
In seclusion there, the creature stood, alone amongst the pines,
Thinking of the time long-lost, he cries a mournful wail,
His glossy fur enveloped in dewey frost, 'tis been long since he wagged his tail,
The coal-black eyes, they peirce the night, as they search the distant stars,
The used to sparkle in the night, but now he conceals his scars,
He no longer feels like the alpha male, instead he feels alone,
Again he looks up to the moon-so-pale, as still and cold as stone,
He doesn't know how it got this way, he just knows it needs to change,
For he knows if this is how he stays, he will soon become deranged.
