You stalk the wood on fleeting foot,
your ruff a misty grey,
like silent death, you hunt your ****
your eyes fixed on your prey.
Your lips drawn back, a silent snarl,
a growl caught in your throat,
your teeth sunk into now-still flesh,
dark blood stains on your coat.
You stalk the shade of empty woods,
as graceful as your ****
look to the moon, my friend, and howl
as silent woods grow still.
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 6:08 AM UTC
You stalk the wood on fleeting foot,
your ruff a misty grey,
like silent death, you hunt your ****
your eyes fixed on your prey.
Your lips drawn back, a silent snarl,
a growl caught in your throat,
your teeth sunk into now-still flesh,
dark blood stains on your coat.
You stalk the shade of empty woods,
as graceful as your ****
look to the moon, my friend, and howl
as silent woods grow still.