The clock ticks

Tick tock tick tock

Keyboard clicks

Tick tock tick tock


The story


Shadows transform.


Come for me when

I sleep.

The thoughts rage,

I rage


Physical violence

Is not an option,

So I must write.


The wolf of my

Anger howls, his

Lonely cry to my

Dearest Celestia,

The White Orb

Of the Night.

He paws at the dirt,

Marking his ground,

Marking his grave.

He stands proud,

His silver fur

Shimmers in


His black eyes gazing


His dreams reflecting

The distance between

Himself and the stars.


The thoughts beat

Inside my head,

I cannot concentrate.

He howls in pain,

So I must write.

My fingers type

Words onto the screen

Of my computer,

Words of encouragement

And peaceful suffering.

My fingers pound

On the keys,

Click click click

In discordant rhythm,

Their sound resembling

That of my dreams:

Discord and chaos.

Chaos is beautiful though,

With the wolf guiding

Me along the way.

His fur I can hide in,

His fur a comfort to

My aching spirit,

My weary heart,

My overworked mind.


The flow of words

Ceases, and so does the

Howl of the lonely wolf.

His feet fall softly on the floor,

He jumps on my bed,

And he curls up next to my head,

Falling asleep.



Your poem is really good. It's perplexing, you must have a lot of feeling in it. 

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