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As he held her in the moonlight,
His heart fills with mournful hurt.
For her life’s blood is cascading,
Staining his shredded shirt.
She is sleeping the final rest,
With his claw buried deep within her chest.
If only she could have feared him,
And not loved him so.
If only she had turned and fled,
Before he struck the final blow.
She would not be dead.
Now his heart is black and heavy,
Like her dead weight within his arms.
On mankind his back is now turned.
A ghostly howl is heard in the silver moonlight,
Now his cries will forever be heard,
On the winds of midnight.