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Dark have been my dreams of late,
away in lands of yore.
I sought the scroll of long lost script,
and now return with rhymes to roar.
Those of you who thought me dead,
and those who prepped their silver.
Feast upon my lines once more,
distracted, your metal I'll pilfer.
Now, without the curs'd metal to kill,
lean back, relax, and take in.
My fresh laid rhymes, of olden times,
so choice, your world I'll spin.
The time I'll pass, your mind enthralled,
so lyrical, my bardic beat.
The moon, it rose, as I point my nose,
toward slumped, enthralled fresh meat.
You lay aghast, at my fur amassed,
across my beastly form.
Unable to scream, still locked in dream,
from my earlier rhythmic storm.
I pounce upon your frozen self,
you cry in painful bliss.
As fear and content, formed from rhyme and bones bent,
leave with life, the flesh you'll miss.
Reared back toward sky, I howl on high,
the sound warns all, both knights and witches.
Wiping blood and bone, from my grin, like stone, and howl out,
"I'm Back Werebitches!!"
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