As the wintery fury of the wind and murky rain blows through the trees.

I feel nothing.

For i am the lone wolf, banished from the pack.

Stopping by a crashing burn, i watch the trees swaying.

Alone i wander through the wood of the souls.

Whimpering like a new born wolf cub, I lick my wound.

I lost the fight against the new contender 

I am not my fathers son, he would of won.

Shamed my pack, shamed the souls of the dead.

I am in the land of wisdom, my fathers solid ground our territory.

Yet my soul feels nothing, I am the lone wolf.

My final stand, I will fall with my ancestors.

Howling in pain, laying down where my family souls are around.

This is me the lone wolf..

 

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