A grey dark skin,
A few of red meat,
A group of mass wolf,
A wooden of big trees,

Sneaking below the snow,
Picking the fresh brewed coffee,
Howling like in the first moon,
Enchanting the beast protective,

A white red hat from the Edwardians,
Werewolf surround her way,
A silent boy coming down,
With a thousand words to say,

That it's painful being left alone,
And faces the upcoming danger,
In which they ask for the throne,
But your highness only replied in anger,

The daughter find its way,
But the boy decided to make it happen,
To keep a night dinner,
And listen to the last wishes,

But a thirst bloodshed stop the moved,
It was his first time,
Met a woman with a pure heart,
In which he had awaiting for a thousand,

It's hurt and hard,
In which things he need to decided,
Grabbing the throne?
Or loving the daughter?
Staying the werewolf?
Or betraying the friends?

His heart was pure,
But hard at the same time,
He shout for a chance,
But they said there's only a revenge,


© writerturk