Werewolves

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When the howls of the werewolves are the things that we all hear,
Most will get their weapons out and gather up in fear.

But we mustn't be afraid of them and their obscure, dark past,
For we're the ones who treat them like they're monsters and outcasts.

When somebody went missing, we'd blame it's fearful cry,
And then we got our pitchforks, they were the ones to die.

Think of them as different, as wild or as free,
From this imperfect heaven that we call humanity.





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