Wild Hunger

Looking at the bloody mess they have made It makes my blood boil with such great hate They come nightly and make their bloody raid Leaving feathers scattered around the gate I shoot and shoot but they always return I should put a bullet in their head Then I saw their cubs peeking through the fern Starving and waiting for at least some bread Why should they be any of my concern? It is my fault those wolves are under fed Their skin has been shrink-wrapped around their bones Watching them makes my heart painfully burn I will leave out at least some chicken heads In hopes to help subdue their painful groans