By what we define ourselves with,
It tends to be the truth of who we are.
With me it is the wolf,
Lonesome or in a pack.
They're wondrous animals,
How loyal they are once befriended.
But with that friendship,
It's something important to be a friend.
To break that loyalty with the wolf,
You don't understand how sad it is.
They were always there,
And you repay them by betraying them.
The lone wolf,
The observer and protector.
It has the loneliest path,
Always there but never noticed.
To how blind someone can be,
The wolf smiles and continues on.
He travels such a lonely path,
Not ever with a pack once.
A/N Yeh this has no rhyming scheme at all. I'm not good at it to be fair. But poetry is something which I like to write atm.