Fake Forest Wolves

And after the late night bar,
in which everyone inclined to the same mind.

He gave us rifles and told us tales and stories
about wolves praying for our kind.

We stood in one line,
and he said:” Follow my line.”

I wish I could go back in time,
destroy every line,
to which everyone inclined.

This is the continuous of a previous poem Late Night in a Bar.

Author's Note

This is the continuous of a previous poem Late Night in a Bar.