Drip... Drip... Drip...
There they go down the drain.
There pointless attacks in vain.
They rushed the Lone Wolf, with there Pack.
They came 1st, so I returned the attack.
Bloody paws and fur.
I didn't want this to occur.
Slashing, crying.
Flashing, dying.
Lots and lots of red,
As I strike one in the head.
Now all of them are dead.
What had this led?
Drip... Drip... Drip...
They all fall down like water into the drain.
There pointless attacks in vain.
Because I am still here, Wolf of Lone.
My literary device is my own mind, I've shown.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryPoetry with various ideas and different backrounds. Please leave comments on anything I can improve on. Also let me know that you want, more poems and if they're good. Thank you fellow readers. And fellow writers- Rtue writers don't find creativity...
