My night is a friend of the slinky moon,
Which hides behind the dark clouds.
Warm summer winds caress my face,
As I stand trapped in the concrete canopy.
The residual peace is unmatched within,
As a savage storm brews in my guts,
My conscience threatens to rip apart,
Like huts ravaged by Poseidon’s wrath.
Behind me I hear dark growls;
And I turn to see fiery, red eyes.
The hounds have found me at last,
Fear, Pain, Hate, and Envy on my trails.
Fighting them was my one soul purpose;
Which I bravely let forego eons ago.
They’ve been chasing my smell since,
For destroying me is their sole purpose.
If I run I survive, if I stop I perish;
The hounds’ hunger heighting me hell.
But tonight they have me cornered,
Outnumbered, outsized, out-thought.
Fear looks hungrily at my guts,
Drool dripping down his fangs.
Pain measures me up patiently,
Checking if I still have some fight in.
Hate is restless, wants to eat me alive;
Yipping and snarling at my every move.
Envy blocks my escape routes,
Essentially trapping me and my fate.
Yet they won’t attack, much to my surprise;
As if they’re awaiting an order.
As if there’s more to this pack,
A leader, most ferocious, I realise.
A new, loud howl pierces the din,
as a new yet familiar beast enters the fray.
Larger, bulkier and hungrier than any;
The Wounded Pride enters the melee.
This is it, then, in a wild night;
Me fighting my inner direwolves.
This is how it ends, I thought;
Gnawed and eaten by dire wolves.
First, Fear snaps away at my guts,
Pain lunges for my throbbing heart.
Hate tears away my long gone head,
as Envy like always, holds me back.
But Wounded Pride will not join in,
For it is not his job to kill.
His job was to sire the four cubs,
Via his beastly ways with Lust.
Conquered me, finally, they have;
Ripped by Fear, Pain, Hate and Envy.
Yet, keenly finished by Wounded Pride,
But truly killed by an insatiable Lust.