Member Poem

On a cold starry night,
I find myself alone, 
Away from every other sight, 
In a jungle very much unknown. 

On a cold scary night, 
I am a wolf on this plight, 
A fantasy, where I am not the prey, 
But the protagonist of my own tale. 

On a cold perilous night, 
The squealing sounds, 
The beating pounds, 
The hooting taunts, 
And a shed of light, 
I can see but naught. 

On a cold ridiculous night, 
Having had a nice juicy bite, 
A carnivores rite, 
And not expecting a late fight, 
I was about to return to the pack, 
When a cackle of hyenas came about, 
Attempting to sway me into a rack. 
My stern figure sowing seeds of doubt. 

But, on a cold miserable night, 
When numbers would match my might, 
And someone would foil the scripts, 
I found myself fleeing with my bowels ripped. 
Such is life, that in my own fantasy, 
I, a angry bad wolf revelling in ecstasy, 
Would not find my way to my pack alive, 
Even in the world I thrive. 

On a cold excruciating night, 
I groan in pains with fright, 
As my limbs are torn from me. 
Earlier, I had been on a killing spree, 
A game of 'I chase, you flee' 

So on this night, 
I found myself alone, 
And without help, 
A saddening recurrence, 
Not a single soul to alter my fate, 
It only made sense that I die alone.