by Theodore Penn
My blood flows in the snow
from a knife this wound grows.
Hunter and Prey.
I bit you with my fangs
apart of the game we play
til death's last song has been sang
to his chosen few.
Tsk, it is really a shame
to leave you, oh mighty fame.
But it's not because of the blade of pain.
I could end you now
Unable to be saved by silly vows
Be glad, for tonight you will live,
though it was not for that you did.
Ha! Your arm is torn
and your spirit worn.
You do not deserve to win!
Franky, I do deserve this end.
No night did I think to spare your brethren.
I alone hold these woods to govern.
Truly is my heart is flesh like your own,
flesh clocked in dark wicked fur though.
Victor and Victim
Victim and Victor
Never a fight have I loss
but every fight I had was a loss.
It can not.
can not make the breeze any less colder
can not make the night any less darker
can not make these woods any less lonelier.
This time is the moment for my reign to be over.
Tomorrow I might rise to find my own
or tonight I might choose to die alone.