How Beastly

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
a poem from a werewolf

Submitted: December 21, 2007

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Submitted: December 21, 2007

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I've lived for a hundred summers...or is it
more?
never finding rest, I got to even the score.
no more the towns hunt me with pitchforks
and guns,
to kill me for taking their daughters and
sons.

only silver, the metal of the night,
can kill me, with its power and might.
I want no more pain, to kill or to flee,
so I sit here, waiting under this damn
tree.

For the villagers to come and take me.
Oh! I wish they'd hurry up!

 

Copyright ©2007 Brooke Elizabeth Black

 

Brooke Elizabeth Black

 

 


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