Beautiful creatures,
They really are,
Shunned by the humans,
Who gave them their scars.
Pushed to be Vicious,
By a world so cruel.
To protect from the hate,
Their claws are a tool.
Being hated and feared,
has turned them sour,
Is there no love,
For the beasts of such power?
They are protective and proud,
Of their heritage,
This will never go away,
Till they die of age.
You can fight them all you want,
Till the brink of death,
They will embrace freedom,
Till their very last breath.
Offline
Nice job
Offline
Beautiful!
Offline