The Howling of the Wolves

The wolves are howling to the moon,
In the dark it tells me the end is coming soon.
Lost in a place of no return,
I feel my heart quicken and my chest burn.

Running through a land with no real name,
Unsure of where I’m going, no idea from where I came.
It’s the end, and there is no way back,
Nowhere to run, to slip between the cracks.

Hoping and praying has never done any good,
Not in my wildest dreams did I think it could.
The howls are louder, as they grow nearer,
In my mind I begin to see clearer.

The pain and the suffering has all been in vain,
There is no way out from this shattering pain.
As the wolves come to meet me, I try to feel brave.
Maybe it is not my blood, and flesh they crave.

Watching them draw nearer until there is no space between.
I wonder silently what could have been.
Could I have run into the depths of the night?
Might I have found the courage to stand tall and fight?

Feeling the teeth clench, I stumble and fall,
Do I stay still, or do I try to crawl?