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I guess this would be considered a poem.
I wrote a while ago for a rhetoric class, and I thought you guys would enjoy it so...
Here it is!
He waits alone. He is the brother of dogs.
As he wanders through the hawkish night wind, sweeping past in gusts of bitter cold, he remains calm, confident. He stands upright, ready to face the dangers of the dark. His only ally, the moon, slowly ascending above his head, giving light to our lonely wanderer. The trees and the mountains seem to be moving about him. He takes a step. Leaves crumble beneath his feet. He remains alert, aware. A shrill cloud falls, diminishing the only thing he believed could get him through. Fear rises inside of him like a cold hard knife, but he will not let it overtake him. He stands in the silence letting nothing, not even the resentful darkness, steal away what he held so dearly. A hope that day might come once more.
He no longer waits alone. He is the brother of dogs.
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Thanks for the comment and personal analysis of the poem:)