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Rated: E · Poetry · Animal · #1627101
The struggles of an average wolf.
I feel it coming.
The feeling of manipulation,
It is overwhelming
I must break free,
Soar like an eagle,
Fall through the heavens.

I feel it coming.
We are only starting to thrive again,
We are slowly dying off,
One by one,
Heart by heart,
And soul by soul

I feel it coming.
The night is at a still.
Brother moon hear our cries,
Our withered cries.
Guide us to the heavens
Lead us to a place where we may thrive.

I feel it coming.
The land is gone.
We have given it away.
Not only our land has been dying,
But our spirits.
Lost into darkness

I feel it coming.
Our rate is dieing rapidly,
Our land is dieing vastly.
What can we do?
They can’t hear us anymore,
We are fading away.

I feel it coming.
Our hope is gone.
What did we do to them
To make our rate bite the dust?
For we didn’t kill them,
They killed us...
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