The She Were
deep in the depths of London, off the A35 trunk route
there lived a wayward entity with the nastiest intentions
A carnivore who ate wriggling squiggling prey
She lived on the borderline of insanity and madness
Her ancestors had lived dank, dark, dreary lives
Secrets promenaded in their family in starts and stops
Because they were wooly, wild, and winsome
Being werewolves also might have entered into it
She was a she-were, the most dangerous, devious werewolf
Most women can control urges, she prioritizes her primality
on Halloween eve she sits in the comfort of Algorith Alley
frightening the rats, who scurry and scatter in fear
There are a few seconds when the moon dies on Halloween
a few precious seconds when this she-were can strike
her ferocious fangs shred shrieking subjects with precision
Madness? Why? Because she leaves carnage after she dines?
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