I hid with the wolves
While your hounds ran me down
The thunder of hooves
Made our howl drown
In noises and screams
Of a well-oiled machine
A man with no dreams
Will ever be keen
To go on his hunt
And to scatter the weak
To pick on the runt
And to cull through the meek
You hold no regard
For what we might have felt
But do not discard
A wolf that has knelt
For we are too numb
And too weary to run
Fear no gun
And pray to no sun
Dead as your mind and
As cornered as you
Bring us our end
And we'll bring you yours too.
Wolf
© Copyright: Триумвират, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115040711929
Свидетельство о публикации №115040711929
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