The cold seeped into me
the wind in my face
the pack on my trail
a torn in my paw
.
My dreams of howls
the howls of an Alpha
the fears of a pack
a pack torn by hate
.
The winter of the fiery days
when the moon turned cold
and the children of men went away
and with that our last hope of survival
.
They refused my call
they did not accept to travel with man
that man was the enemy
their pride will be our death
.
I chose to walk away
from a pack so proud
i cursed their pride
and fought their laws
I was with seed-the last of my kind
.
I, a lost wolf, may be
lost and hunted
because their ways i hate
my kin i'll protect
The Law of the Jungle i'll uphold.
YOU ARE READING
Sojourner
PoetryWe won't journey on forever. Someday, our dreams will cease to exist. But I believe that fantasy turns to reality- when we learn to submit- at our breaking point. We need to wake up. We can't live in fantasy
