The pack is split.
It's torn.
It's worn.
And it's only just, started to dawn.
On me.
I'm no longer, safe and sound.
So alone, to the moon I howl.
Hoping to hear some response.
A friendly sound, but they're all gone.
Moving, lost, or just plain left.
I've never felt, how I fret.
Now.
These clouds are dark.
And the howl's a lonely bark.
A growl, a snarl, at those I know.
No friendly love, nothing to show.
Even now, I sit and type.
I know I'll be up all night.
Prowling around this room again.
Trying to just quench the pain.
My hackles up, my head set low.
Maybe it's my turn to go.
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