Lone Wolf - poem
There once was a wolf,
Whose story I speak.
The other wolves left him, for he was too weak.
Without a pack,
The wolf held up his head.
How brave he could be, when he’d sooner be dead.
No family, no friends.
No lovers, no mate.
This wolf suffered the cruelest of fate.
The wolf was abandoned because he was weak.
The vicious pack left him,
They bite as we speak.
There is no second chance,
Or turn to a new page.
Just a lone wolf by himself for an age.
A lone wolf who at night,
Would cry to the moon.
Wish for a pack that had left him too soon.
For a wolf with no pack,
With no one else to defend,
Is a wolf whose own sorrow knows no real end.
I guess there is but one thing left, for you see,
What you don’t realize, is that the lone wolf is me.