wolf that wanders,
Fearful of the human world,
A mystical creature,
Who hunts to survive,
Who strays to thrive,
Fearing those who judge,
The life they life,
They aren't perfect,
neither are we,
Before you point the gun,
In my direction,
My eyes are the feelings,
that your death has in reflection,
so go a head human,
Pull the trigger, Free my only vigor,
May my spirit run free inbetween the trees,
Like the streams and wind,
We are beautiful, your the ugly ones,
We are the essences of Wild Scents,
While under God creature, your the hell sent,
We are gentle creatures, warm and beautiful in presence,
howling under the moons crescent.