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Just give up
What you seek you will not find
For you have made a mistake
My dear friend of mine

Put it in my room
And that will be the last of it you see
For I have a little brother
Living here with me.

God ******* Damb it
I want my stuff back
You don't know what happened
Ha, what brains do you think I lack?
There are three types of people.

The first type are the pawns,
The ones who follow the rules blindly.
These people don't often know that their being controlled,
It's rather sad.

Then There's the second type of person, the players.
These people know about the game,
And use their power to resist and control the game
In their favor.

Then there's the last group of people, the masters.
These people learned of the game called life,
And they don't like what they see.
They change the world to meet their ideals,
For better or worse.

I know were I fall in,
So can I ask the question?

Which is you?
Feel free to answer the question. I would dearly like to see were everyone believes they are on the board.
☉The sun falls in November☉
☊ And won't rise until February ☊
It's a sick feeling
◉ Total darkness ◉
⍤The pines whisper their worries⍤
☾ Aligned with the moon's shine ☽
Hungry winter bears
❄ And snow-white hares ❄
◗ Try to escape the night ◖
Being out in
⚇ The Last Frontier ⚇
《 All you hear is your breath 》
It's a quite sound
⌭ Snow-creak ⌭
You're left me out here in the cold
☆ But I decided to put my hopes on the stars ☆
There’s so many
So many that are bright
★ I think the dark ones are my favorite ★
*Your soul is a crystal sky

✧ *Lit from the North

Dancing to a shifting melody
☪ Only broken out at midnight ☪
Changing your colors
To fit your light between my dark stars
∬ Wavering ∬
§ Fluctuating §

⊝ Undetected by most ⊝
␥ But those special few watch from the water ␥
⎊ They’re alone like me ⎊
Soon your shows slows
↡ And you fall asleep with the dawn ↡
⚰ Frozen tongues can’t taste your remains ⚰
∈ Nor can they converse with themselves ∋
My heart was left out in the cold
And it learned to love Alaska
⚖ Solitude and freedom go hand-in-hand ⚖
I'm not afraid of commitments
**⚮ But I'm terrified that my heart won't have what it desires. ⚮
Part one of the Cold Gates.

I was left out to freeze, and I learned to survive the harsh wilderness.

© Copywrite Lycan
A story within a poem

{~~~}

I’m the only one left.
My pack was killed off, one by one.
Death shadowed me
Followed everywhere I went
Soaking my fur black
Killing my sight

I remember the look on her face
Her fur matted in the chase
Teeth stained red
Eyes with a wild dying light
Her muffled breathing slowing
I felt her life stop underneath her chest

Then you came
You saw your trophy on the ground
Next to a live one
You drew a silver stick
The sun glinted off like water with light
You stuck it in my side

You drug it up my already dead fur
Ripping up my flesh
I felt it clack against my ribs
With a sick yelp
I turned my tail and ran
Away from your prize

I wandered the forest alone
With Death on my back
Running from you
The stick was still in my side
Red water ran down my skin
Pooling everywhere I went

I could smell you following me
That is all that kept me on the run
I could feel my life drain away
I was slowing
Enough for you to catch me
Enough to finish the ****


It was at the field of feathers you found me
Just beyond the pines
I was lying, panting from the chase
Death was staring me in the face
And when my vision cleared I saw you instead
Watching me carefully

You had your loud stick at your side
Your face was hard like rocks
You just watched me
I stared back
Prepared for death
I’d die the lonely wolf

Your face softened
You neared closer
I had no strength to protest
You dropped lower
Almost crawling towards me
While I was crawling toward the darkness

You were just a blur now
Your hand closed around the silver stick
While your other hand traced the wound
You looked at that hand
Which was now blurred red
You muffled something softly

I looked up
A growl rose in my throat
I could see it
I couldn’t let it happen
You jumped back
The loud stick raised at me

I dragged myself to my feet
Snarling while red water fell over the feathers
It was so hard to see
But I could smell it
The intention to ****
You edged back

I took off running
Coming right at you
You howled at me
I was at full sprint now
But your stick
It howled loud and quick

That’s when I felt it
The burning in my chest
My eyes widened
I fell and stumbled
Feathers stirring in the sky
I tried to prop myself up
But I couldn’t

You stared at me
I panted out what was left of the red water
I whined at you
Just turn around
I barked; yelped helplessly
It was too late

The bear that was behind you
Struck you down
Tearing your flesh wide open
The red water was everywhere
I couldn’t do anything
I could only watch

The bear finally stopped tearing
It’s black eyes stared at you
A moment longer
A heap of red flesh
Barely breathing
It wandered off into the pines

I whined at you
You cried back
Darkness was on the edge of everything
Closing in on me
Closing in on you
I could hear your pain

I dragged myself closer to you
Whining
I could make out your eyes
Wide with fear
I groveled closer
You gingerly twitched your hand

I was close now
I could feel your life against my fur
Beating slowly
Your were almost gone
I licked an apology on your hand
I’m sorry

You looked at me
Your hand moving up my drenched fur
You grabbed the silver stick
And slowly drew it out
It didn’t hurt
I was already broken

You looked at me
And breathed one last time
I saw myself in your blue eyes
You had a soul too
I filled myself with air
And howled for the last time

A ragged voice in the night
Blood-red feathers in the sky
Floating to the stars
I was singing for me
I was singing for you
I was singing for us

My shoulders slumped
I fell to the ground
My sight was gone
I couldn’t feel you dead-still next to me
But I could still hear
My song echoing

Wolf song
If we should die tonight
We should die
 together

{~~~}
This is more of a story
It's about a wolf whose pack get killed off by a hunter. This wolf is the last one left, and while he was laying next to dead friend, the hunter appears and stabs the wolf with a knife. The wolf runs for a long time, close to death. He realizes he can't run anymore so he lays in a field of dandelions  (described as feathers)
The hunter sees the wolf, with intention to **** him, but while he watches the wolf suffer in pain he realizes what he's done.
The wolf then sees a bear behind the hunter, and the wolf's protective instincts take over. He uses the last of his strength to attempt to attack the bear, but the hunter mistakes the wolf for trying to attack him. He yells at the wolf to stop, but he doesn't. He shoots the wolf in the chest, disabling it. The bear attacks the hunter and leaves him to die.
The wolf sees that the hunter as a soul just like him, and crawls to the dying hunter to comfort him. Licking his hand is away of submitting to the hunter, and apologizing.
The hunter dies and the wolf is filled with the sadness of loosing another pack-mate.
He sings a song for him, and himself.
The song is translated into something like
"If we should die tonight,
Then we should die as brothers."

© Copywrite Lycan
We are a nation so drunk on the pride of our past,
We have forgotten to maintain that pride today.
We turn a blind eye to the opportunities before us,
Believing we are the best we can possibly be.

We are wrong.
When I fall,
I shall bring about a great change in the world.
Be it a bitter hell formed from my rage,
Or a simple apple tree grown from a seed hidden in my pocket.
Nothing new and nothing old,
Nothing bought and nothing sold.
Nothing to tell who we were,
But our bones on our earth.
In my perfect world, their is no money.
In my perfect world, their is no social standings.
In my perfect world, natural selection still implies.
There is no capitalism in my world, everything is done by the people themselves.
My world is the opposite of the American life I have now.
I hate politics. It's wasted effort to believe in those fools.
We control our worlds with a pen and pencil,
We shape their lives with our words and thoughts.
We give birth to our champions,
We sumon great evils to destroy our lands.
We light the fires to cast our lights of hope,
We darken the shadows that swell with despire.
We are the ones who are gods of our realms.
We are the authors.

We bring the end to the beginning,
We bring the beginning to the end,
We create worlds and realms in stroking,
We cause pain and suffering to mend,
We bring about darkness in shadow and flame,
We scatter hope to shine and bring about the light,
We create good and evil in fuition and in name,
We are the creators and the destroyers, it is our might,
We are gods among people,
We are the few among the many,
We are the authors.
God isn't in the clouds watching us. God is everyone one who creates stories worth reading, the ones who make worlds on their own. The last part was written by one of my fanfic writing buddies, Xera Stark.
Have you ever noticed people look on our generation,
And tell us we are the ones who will change the world?
How they shower us with their hope,
And look forward to our great achievements?
Why are we the only ones expected to change the world?
Anyone of any age can, so why do the grown ups watch us instead of joining us?
It would go a lot faster with some help.
Please, that one guy on the couch thinking my daughter will be important,
Why not walk along side her to the road of importance?
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