I was blue on that blue moon
Or was it the wolf.
Where I was like Virginia or Sylvia,
howling with rage and gloom.
And death was there
And she was digging out as I was digging in.
I was the infant in the woods
dragged away.
The creature hating its creator,
But unlike the creature, our creator is obscure
we cannot hunt him down and ask him:
why?
© Samantha Lucero
samantha lucero 
Amazing. Thank you for being Sam Lucero!
glad to see you here! thanks. ❤
Reblogged this on .
Damn Sam! Gave me chills.
Loved this.