Late night...
Forest deep...
A fog so thick, it
radiates a morbid
heat...
A fools guild, of
men with sharp blades
of various size. 

The trees consume,
A troubled moon,
Pale tears guided,
Impending doom. 
Wicked laughter,
fills the air,
There are worse things,
Then that which
are created up
here. 

Shadows dance around the trees.
A ritual to capture weak
souls. 
And the fools who were silenced by
curiosity. 
The idiots tricked
by this places fools gold. 


A loud cry,
Men come upon him like the dark. 
He is chained,
Mounted,
and wounded,
Save for one glassy eye...
which looks upon the wicked,
distorted faces with something
like sorrow. 
A wise beast,
But to them,
Just a monster with a savage
brain...
To darkness, a troubled far away. 

Circus animal,
Prodded to give forth wounded cry...
There is no passionate anger here...
Just a lonely creature,
Living a tortured life...
Not a man woman or child in the crowd
cares enough to wonder why,
Great tears fall from the beasts eyes
while the "men" watch on in cruel delight. 

Midnight,
The beast can no longer sleep...
Stars dot the sky, just out of reach...
Lays great head on cool dry earth...
Closes eyes,
Spread great snarling lips,
Until he no longer breathes...
A magnificent creature,
A miracle of the earth...
Closes his eyes and sleeps...

And goes where the monsters,
Can no longer hunt the beast. 

DNB