I made this towards mid 2008. I haven´t gotten any response since I first posted it and I am hoping to get this community´s opinion on it.
It isn´t about werewolves but about the WW1 times.

As I sat in the trench,
Missing that grand ol´ bench.
I remember watching the days pass
Sitting with my girl, Kas.
She begged me not to leave,
¨I will be back soon¨ I told her to believe.
Back in the trench with my musket,
I hope I don´t kick the bucket
When I stand up to move about.
Thoughts arrive as I follow this route.
Looking over the wall taking aim,
I think ¨bounce off the frame,
Don´t penetrate and harm anyone.
A killer will not be made from this gun.¨
I fire one shot, then two, then three.
Two struck metal, the third hit a tree.
Hoping that I´m alive when day breaks.
I want to be there when she wakes.
I dove down as a mortar shell exploded.
A blast of adrenaline hit before they reloaded.
I fled to the edge of the trench to escape.
Once out I turned, reality started to take shape.
My goal is to save as many lives as I could
Getting out is the one thing I misunderstood.
To get out and save enemies and allies.
The only way would be to act wise.
If I take out the head of their army,
This battle would end, it felt eerie.
By killing one I could save thousands,
But If I do this, will I join the league of legends?
Its not what I want, but it is what I must do.