There are no more wolves in Ireland, but this is my take on what hapened to the last.
Mix of a frustration story of trying to fit in, plus a bit about how I view music.
Written in highschool (1998) in response to the teacher's assignment of 'write something paranormal'. The old english style was fun to write in as well. Translations of some of the more unusual words are provided in brackets at the end of the line.
I know Wendigo is not strictly a shapeshifter in native american belief, however it seemed to work well in this context. The poem is somewhat lyrical, thought the music as of yet is still just in my head.