The Howling Fear

A wounded man reflects on his last moments of his life.

The Howling Fear

I can hear them coming

The blood seeping through my bandages

I can't press on I must sit

I can hear them running

A tear runs down my cheek as I think of her

The beast has injured me with his cunning

I have little time left and in these last moments

I wish this werewolf to know that I'm not afraid

For my idea was formed when I was seeking atonement

I have infused silver in with my bone 

The beast shall enjoy his feast for it shall be his last

The silver bullet my colleagues have created will imprison these beast behind our museum glass.

Author's Note

A quick rough poem I created.

Reviews

[BradleyBarnett]

I really really like the way it leaves the reader to decide how he got into his problem with the beasts.

[Aarea]

Interesting. He will die and the museum will have its exhibit. That man must care about his museum. My only complaint was that the comment about the girl was kind of random. Either elaborate or take it out. Other than that, it's a great poem.

[BradleyBarnett]

I like the comment about the girl, it leaves the reader thinking.