Point of death,
From littlest rabbit to large horse to human,
No spirit releases willingly,
I have in sixty five nearly have held my little loves when they would leave me,
The pain is incredible,
They latch out,
They bite,
Things they would never do,
They look at you in such pain,
I hope they know what they meant to me,
Animals and two humans have kept me tethered after the lies of my half sister,
That’s who I am,
Just a poet,
Whose best at carrying for those that need me,
Without them life holds nothing!
Val's Whitewolf Books 