Howling with sorrow

I hate to be a cliché, a stereotype everything that she told she hated,every aspect of what it was confided on me, all of the aspects she specifically told me it was reproached in a creature now live reflected on my skin and every time that i shift under this moon that's burned under myself like branding on an animal.

Her words are like echoes spinning and penetrating my head like silver bullets made to pierce and crack my bones, reaching to tear my flesh, her eyes are hunting me through a promise that i repeated in my mind over and over.

Running! and screaming! while my body change and my bones get their animal form! i keep moving through the forest while i fall and keep falling in something that cannot be, something that has failed for me more times that i can remember.

The change happens under the cover of the night, i let myself go and the wolf comes out. Tortured, tired, primal and saddened the beast gets to be all that i'm not. He represent the creature that gets to be wild and gets to feel, to run and to be free by getting in and out of me.

For hundred moons of more I've been howling...now she becomes part of my past one my shadows in disguise reminding me of the promise that was broken. never ending, never stopping hating the man hating the wolf while i'm running away on this forest of sorrow.