maybe the wolf is in love with the moon
and each month it cries for a love it will never touch
just to  find its self alone in the darkness of its mind!!!

I knew a boy who liked to draw,
he drew pictures nobody saw,
he was most artistic late at night,
in the bathroom out of sight,
he drawings were different,
no paper or pen,
but he needed a bandage now and again,
we laid by the river under the stars,
he rolled up his sleeves and showed me his scars,
he felt embarrassed and looked at his shoe,
but I rolled up my sleeves and whispered,
"I draw too!"

throw me to the wolves and I will return leading the pack,
think that I am nothing? they will have my back,
when I am strong or weak,
or somewhere in between,
they will know where to find me,
but only if I want to be seen.