My dad was mean to the end. He had eight kids and left his land to a cousin. The mean man screwed us on his death bed. Besides he was a dead beat dad at that. Most everyone important to me in my family is too mean and some of my friends. For all you good old pie in the sky folks who figure life on your terms, be glad if your life is better.
But don't come around dictating to me, I know my own life and I still handle it positively. I dedicate this poem to all the mean azz people out in the world, especially my dad in the ground. Hopefully I can avoid the bite of the wolf. If you not a wolfman you might be some other mean azz monster. By the way I'm a forgiving person so figure the math and don't take this poem too serious, it's only a poem. I never meant for it to make much sense but I know why I wrote it.
Wolfman on the prowl, you can hear him howl. He prefers a full moon, but it will be day soon. Doing what wolfman do, howling out his big boo. Even after he would change, he still acted strange.
Before he turned wild, he was a man, boy and child. His game was too stiff, everything in his life was if. If he wasn't a grown man, he might have a toy plan.
Wolfman wouldn't laugh and smile, all he wanted was raw meat on the prowl. He ate little girls and boys, killed adults for his joys. The fool was completely gone, all of his life he was alone.
Even when he was a man walking, he was too mean and cruel talking. He couldn't operate his kid feature, one day he mauled his teacher. The teacher got mad, wolfman smiled glad.
It's too late for the wolfman, he can't go back and regroup, he's stuck in his coup. If only he wasn't so stiff, he might have moved pass if. Now it's too late, wolfman is his fate.
One
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Reviews of "Wolfman in the Moon"
Reviewed by ~ Holly Harbridge (Reader)
Reviewed on November 8, 2006
Your poem is priceless! Hope you never change big guy! *hugs* Holly
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