Wolf Child's Poem

The mist of the forest formed the thicket, the icy gray tones mixed the environment, I remained leaning on the bark of a willow appreciating its longevity between the furrows. Then I walked stealthily in the humidity of the grass, wrapped in Lycanthropy, waiting for my child's cry.
Incredible pain trapped in my chest like a thousand souls locked in a dome, a thousand voices in one just about to spill its madness.
My childish silhouette receives a flash of light from the sky; my whole nocturnal being is slowly covered by the moon and its silver mantle; which indicates the moment, which makes my first tear spill.
That Moon invites me to delirium, proposes to me to fall on my knees, hits me on the ground a thousand times while it’s light is my misfortune.
I feel the hair grow behind my neck and my mouth are now jaws and my electric eyes like rubies trigger the supernatural instinct.
With my sharp senses and my sharp ears I couldn’t contain it anymore. And I cried Wolf, the trapped souls became my howls; and wolf I wept without consolation and the voice of the wild preserved my infinite world.