Not every wolf wants to be alone. Not every lone soul likes the solitude that is forced upon them.
Some, some want to be a part of a pack. A desperate but rebuffed plea to not be alone.
The life of darkness isn’t always chosen. Sometimes it is given. A gift unwanted. Rebuked. But inescapable.
We lie alone in the cold and die slowly in the heat. Ignored and forgotten because we don’t fit in.
We are always given the promise of love and acceptance only to be shunned and thrown aside.
We reach and grasp at human normalcy only to wind up turning the lights off again…
And no one notices.
The feigned smiles that haunt our faces. The brief hugs we wished lasted a little longer. The darkness we begin to embrace because the world is clearly telling us that’s where we belong.
That the light is for the ones fairer than you. The ones who shine. The ones who make you dim.
We hide and come out alone in the night. To howl at the moon our cries of loneliness and our want for something. Anything. That is real and stays.
We beg the universe in our shrill broken voices that one day, we won’t be, here.
That one day we won’t have to fake a smile.
That the people who we are around actually want us.
That we, one day, won’t need to be wanted.
Not every lone wolf is happy and not every lone wolf chose the darkness.
Sometimes it is given.
Unforgivingly and unapologetically.
And not every lone wolf survives.