June 26, 2016Bioman, Flash, Poem, Poet, Poetry, The Daily Writ, Uncategorized Leave a comment The Wolfman When I was young my parents Were careful to teach us All how to share Then my blessed mother died Before my father And when my Father passed My siblings fell on him and me Like Vampyres Ripping our throats asunder Eating us while the last rites Were still being said. The Old Man is dead now but as my Last breaths support me I shall lay down this sorry tale For others to be warned Lest you go thinking you Are immune to the bite Of the wolf and throngs of them Shall be there at your death. Copyright B E Saunders 2016 Share this:TwitterFacebookPrintLinkedInEmailLike this:Like Loading...