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

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