Lonely Fangs

Or maybe not. My previous post is not the last post before this week’s mysterious weekend. This one is. I’m already addicted to writing poems. Can’t help it 😛

Howl at the moon, young wolf!
On top of the highest spot
Tree rustles that’d be Mr. Crow
In pine forest so alone

Winter’s gate has been unlocked
Dance in the misty thick fog
Race the wind and fight the freeze
Shifts back into solitary breeze

And here you are running
With courage as your covering
You’re friends with the moon
Challenge even the evil doom

Silver hunter of the exiled
Your fangs grew pale and refined
Lone survivor knows no dread
Around white your blood stays red

Wolf bane, curse, and blight
Narrowing the path, that’s snow’s pride
But it is you who’s there and my,
Would you look at the mountain’s fright,
As they see you with its rhapsodic eyes?

Fangs. Stained in red
Hazardous, you’re a threat
Poke the horror, and it’s their end
Lonely fangs of winter, savage unrestrained
Glowing eyes, their necks bled
Finish your meal, oh how they’re all scared

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