Her petals felt restricted by the fence they were growning in.
And she was wearing by the hour
A rose and Forget me nots, are not always the perfect flower
Growing against the odds and molding to the bends
Tangled within the reversal bounds
And wandering amongst the mortal sin.
And in all the chaos, the virtuous rot
Or are consumed by flames
But being a sign of beauty the flower smiles when it rains.
As her roots grow deeper and she rises to the sky
She cant save herself, its a forceful goodbye
But being captured by the sun's beauty can only end in demise
To burn her peltals, making her wither and die.
The flames that consume the human
The beast that controls the spark
The inferno inside leads to ruin
The light that balances the dark
The wildfire rages throughout
Singeing the whole garden
Change in the air
Can it burn through the heart that's hardened?
To KNOW: You will learn about flowers and some myths behind them in this story. They are cutely a part of this story.
YES This is a werewolf story.
Consorting: habitually associate with (someone), typically with the disapproval of others.
All poetry mine, unless stated otherwise. For example I wrote that poem up top.
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Consorting Jordan
WerewolfAlpha Gage was known for his ruthless army when threatened and his words... or lack thereof. It was said that he didn't speak much and when he did it could shake even the mightiest warrior and she was no exception. He was also the youngest alpha in...
