A poem I'm proud of...
The moon is Nirvana.
To the wolf who loves it.
I was as loved as the vampire.
I would fly through the sky and swim in the forests.
The quick birds of my conscious
But I was no bird.
As I said 'peace out' to the world and flew higher.
The higher I went the smaller I would seem.
An uncommon kid in this world.
As though I wouldn’t last in this way.
I need to go higher in order to drown.
My fur keeping me warm,
The moon, guiding my flight,
Rain in my nose, cool and crisp,
Midnight on my breath,
And the soaring of my wings to keep me company.
The clouds fought my ascension
They punched me down.
Nothing I needed more then a blast of conscious oxygen.
Eh mas o menos.
But it was time to land and put my paws back down.
Time to be Michael of Earth again.
The appearance of daggers stabbing me.
Although tomorrow the wolves of yesterday dwell on.
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Myself
a little bit about my inner self...
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WolfRider104
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