She's lost and alone.
As she bays at the moon,
it's soul, so full.
The full moon smiles in a mischievous way,
Inviting her sorely to come out and play.
Tangled hair rolls down her back,
enveloping her fearsome face.
For tonight's cull,
Her manicure's gone
her nails have grown,
They're so sharp, so vicious, so fierce,
her tears,
although,
tumbling,
remaining unwiped,
She can bear no scars,
from her previous hunt.
Who said that t'was only the seventh son of the seventh son?
She wanders lonely hillocks,
On the hunt for human kind,
Her mind is cursed,
with ****** souls blood,
As she wanders alone through the wind blasted wood,
she's looking for food.
Her mind's set on feeding the curse she was given,
Stuck in a situation she did not want to live in,
Death did not become her,
it never could,
while,
she wandered lonely
through the wild wood.
Although,
desperately,
she tried hard to expire,
as an immortal wolf woman,
her wish was denied,
and she cried.
On the evenings,
when the moon was wane,
she sobbed to herself.
Feeling such pain,
knowing incarnate,
that soon the full moon,
would with it bring with her next date,
a date with death,
for somebody else.
(C)Livvi