Isolated air,
flowing over the tranquilized seas,
touching the gray, highest peaks,
to the vast city of trees.
You think as this you see,
that not a care there could be,
but beyond the darkened forests,
there's a creature with a plea.
Soundless sun,
wind breezing ever-so gently.
The great star begins to set,
and the sky starts to darken.
Amongst it looks harmless,
every bit of life lays to rest.
But if you listen closely now,
a sound of pain you will get.
Pitch-black surroundings.
Not a human could possibly see.
It's this time of the day,
where not a soul there would be.
Most are sleeping calmly,
while others burst into "life".
And through the meadows of leaves,
a new creature lives to fight.
Somber abyss,
when most choose to hide.
Keeping safe from apprehension,
hoping not to die.
All of the Creatures are out now,
together in dicerption they roam.
Tracking any piece of sufferable life,
the ones weak and alone.
Powerful ones,
they wait in the night.
They forever remain the ones
who will never again die.
To say they aren't devious,
would be the most frank of lies.
They feed apon the good ones,
and through the night they seem to *fly
This was one of the first poems I've written, nearly four years ago. Please ignore the numerous flaws.