Yet another poem is written in the same script as the last.
The wind blew the strawberries over,
and we gobbled them up good.
We don't know why we did it,
Didn't know we could!
The next day we got hungy,
But there was nothing left.
We all turned to skin and bones,
Out stomaches were bereft.
~Wolves of Moshran~
Real Poem Again
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