Lone Wolf

Under the rain he sat and hoped
Beneath the moon he prayed
For one last view of that eternal love
Of that everlasting muse

Writing the poetry not daring to fulfill, living the story he cannot write
Bleeding the perfect verse, from a severed head
The words drip into the paper, out of grief and rage
A never healing wound out of hate

This is who I am, change the stars, change my being
Judge me trough my poetry and feel my words
A nightingale that sits in the darkness, singing
Cheering my solitude with my own sounds

Feel what I feel, drink for the elixir of wisdom
See trough my eyes and see the real beauty underneath the beast
Reflect in the mirrors of sin, this dying poetry of mines
All which was distorted is now beautiful verses in devoured paper

Follow me but create a trail of bread, the road is long
Let me show you the beauty of a rainy night, of a shining moon
Delight your ears to the sound of the wolves, they're howling your name, listen
Find beauty in the raging ocean, sit on the shoreline

The chaos, and destruction, they have all become part of my life
Only I can understand them, they speak to me, they yell at me;
Their words are like a bucket of cold water being thrown over me
It is from the cold that my poetry is born, and from cold it shall be done.

The true poet is not the one that you can touch and hit
The true poet is the one that you can see with your eyes closed
Feel with your hands tied behind your back, hear even when you're deaf
The poet lies within the poetry, within the written verses

Don't judge me for how I look or how I talk, nor how I dress
Judge me trough my poetry, my gift to you, and to the world
Open your heart and soul, let my words enter and fill you
Let me make you angry, sad, let me make you smile or cry.