What goes around

The moon is high, on velvet skies,
As I stand here, in wolf like guise.
Alone for I, have lost my mate,
There is no greater, loss in fate.

Her golden eyes, now closed in peace,
in long wrapped tresses, soft like fleece.
She was the white sheep, in the dark.
The cruellest world, gave her its mark.

An innocent cast down by trolls,
They stole her heart, those evil souls.
Such meanness took, my love away,
I hope to think, they'll surely pay.

Cowards that hide, behind a screen.
Are they convinced they, can’t be seen,
Be sure that you, will be found out.
Of that there's never, any doubt.

And when -you’re- found, be sure to know,
Upon your grave, I’ll stamp and crow-
For you will get, your just dessert.
And know first-hand of pain and hurt-