they say the lone wolf dies yet the pack survives. it is the strength of a whole and it solely that can mend for sturdy fangs and foreign bites of ill-fated violence. regrettable.
and although they say the pack survives, what is of the lone wolf? is he fated to be swallowed whole by the jaws of his most trustworthy companions? to be crucified as a slave and mistreated as a martyr?
they say the lone wolf dies and his carcass serves as a reminder of what can be forgotten so easily through the years he can be no more and the pack will be, still
they say the pack survives upon the feeble shoulders of the lone wolf feeding its ego and stomach praying for another to idolize like the most precious of waste. after one comes another and time does not make saints out of victims nor does the pack which thrives and feasts and tears limb to limb deities and sinners alike.
cruelty is no stranger to the pack it is a principle to build community upon and everyone relishes being the predator until they too are made into the prey.
nobody ever remembers the lone wolf nor do they remember whom he was before crucifixion what they do remember is to never be pushed into such a place
the struggle never ends and when another falls into their godless clutches you'll thrive and feast and rejoice and find yourself thinking at least it’s not me
another old piece i proof read and completed today
you have an impressive physical physique but what of your consciousness can you say the same your capacity for tenacity is unparalleled though your vain attempts at kindness, feats to astound a charismatic prowess a star reacher rested on the ground your head's in the clouds at your own allowance and there's no coming down
writhe under the boot, a heel you were born to its imprint pressed onto your cheek a mark you'll bare no matter the distance in the pursuit of liberty in hopes of justice just for a chance at happiness where did our virtues go? were there ever any at all?