hindering time.
but it's not open for debate,
sleep will not wake.
Writing horribly,
under a sunlit sky.
praying to the moon,
die heathen die.
lampshades and pillow cushions,
this is love.
these are the things that kill men.
the decide their fate.
All of a man lost to domesticity,
We are not men.
no, we are wolves
we have only one rule, that we tell no-one we are wolves.
They can't see our fangs,
under our pale skin.
they cant see our manes,
we are too strong.
You, little boy,
you will be a wolf.
You will see pain and blood,
you will feel nothing.
you will be nothing.
only a wolf.
a worthless little wolf.
then one day you will see red flying,
you will feel it on your face.
you will be a wolf, and you will smile at the damned world.
A friend sleeps late,
so the mind wanders,
what pains of fate,
oh, testosterone ponders.
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