4359
The wolfpack
sconn
In vicious packs these creatures roam, From their mouths form spit anf foam. With greyish blur and shaggy fur. Moon beams fall. Light up all. From silvery woods there comes a call. To the mysterious full moon they howl. Which injures but illuminates they're nightly prowl. Brown dear. Very near. It is broght down full of fear. Deadly bight. Very tight. Every wolf shall feast tonght.