Ambrose
I am not as other men.

I rise this night
The moon is dull
As for centuries its been
I open the curtain,
The pain comes then.

I will not cry
I have no more tears, to cry
The change comes then.

With my eyes
Of amber glass
I am not as other men.

My skin burns
My bones bend and crack
My muscles ache
The fangs come back.

My cloths ripped to rags
I claw, i snarl
And howl in hopes
To turn that dull moon to dust.

And as for years i have been
A werewolf.
I am not as other men.


Poem by: [+Katch+]
character Ambrose (c) Sabin