She howls at the moon in the midst of the night. Seeking lost souls trapped and screaming in fright. Her cries play melodies of melancholy trials lost, her spirit stolen callously at a grave cost. Roaming the dense fog on hallows eve Watching the dead rise, I'm sure many were known to be wise. As she so gallantly skips past ancient tree's they whipser vintage stories about Victorian times and all its glories. Tree leaves construct reenactments of ****** wars riddled of death and destruction among differences of the people, only wishing to gather and come together at the church steeple. Her howls are searched among the hollow lands above makeshift graves of innocent people seen as second rate, not suprising of their final fate. Beings born with no guidence for a undeniable ratchet societies views, she howls as she hears the news. Her ravaged heart however battered still beats, I am She Wolf.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 6:44 PM UTC
She howls at the moon in the midst of the night. Seeking lost souls trapped and screaming in fright. Her cries play melodies of melancholy trials lost, her spirit stolen callously at a grave cost. Roaming the dense fog on hallows eve Watching the dead rise, I'm sure many were known to be wise. As she so gallantly skips past ancient tree's they whipser vintage stories about Victorian times and all its glories. Tree leaves construct reenactments of ****** wars riddled of death and destruction among differences of the people, only wishing to gather and come together at the church steeple. Her howls are searched among the hollow lands above makeshift graves of innocent people seen as second rate, not suprising of their final fate. Beings born with no guidence for a undeniable ratchet societies views, she howls as she hears the news. Her ravaged heart however battered still beats, I am She Wolf.
