• Fate of Red

    The traces of the wolf
    seem to follow where I've tread
    as I'm stumbling in the dark
    with my spirit dyed in red.

    It's just my fate to follow
    this cloak of red that flows
    like a river of blood
    to an end nobody knows.

    The breath of the wolf blows
    across the deep gray skies
    and pointless drips drop down
    from the corners of my eyes.

    As I lie hooded in red
    even the heavens begin to fall
    as if to wash away my destiny
    which doesn't change all.

    I raise my hand up high
    as if to beg a question of sky
    and the rain that falls down softly
    resembles tears of goodbye.

    As the wolf bares it's fangs
    a silver lining pierces through.
    The destiny of the wolf and the hunter,
    it seems, was overdue.

    I clasp tightly to this cloak,
    these threads that bind my destiny,
    and wonder when this fate of red
    will instead be the end of me.