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