Decade of so many moods so tail only one

  Tale of a brigadier to a general

  Shadow to a darker light

  Little Wolfgang to having his own wolf-pack

  He only howl sometimes, most times he slink slicks with his new guard

  He the avant of the sLums but not always so.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Sixth metamorphosis,

  From the sea nymph, the dark, the pink, the blurs, the feet

  Even the stint in the sarcophagi where he was denied gold but came out coinin’ terms

  Denied the soul’s currency but came out with golden veins

  Silver-tongue eloquence eclipses the without

  Find it within seeking solace in little Wolfgang’s feet of clay.