The Wolves.A Poem by Thomas FitzgeraldA look at oe of my favourite characters - Anne Rices Lestat.Seated minds always turn on those whole, My father has hands to whip and blind, Two brothers seek pillage without fear, A mother to old and sick to change her mind.
A friend of fancy saves Paris and plays solid, Fancy garments hide tears he sobs at night, I turn to comfort and kiss and hold close, Though never for those with a keen telling sight.
The wolves gather to mock me in line and forest, I bash at those near with gavels held high, A mortal with deeds of running form this village, Why must we spit on those that tell a dark lie.
Goodbye dear reader for your time has truly come, A moment of men that lived long ago in that, Pierce now the mind that is clouded with wording, For that was me then before the Vampire Lestat. © 2013 Thomas FitzgeraldAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorThomas FitzgeraldWexford, Leinster, IrelandAboutTo all who know by now - I love you. For those that don't, I review a lot of work on here, and I expect the same in return, friend me but make sure to have conviction! I'm a horror writer mostly bu.. more..Writing
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