Leader of his own pack,

A high slope, only to his lonesome self,

Lost connection toward the skys tired eyes,

Ears tucked in deepening sulk.

He'd given up on prey's prayful ease,

Wrapped in dolefuls constructed salute,

As if every pelt surrounded him in scorn,

Soon forgotten travail, a yelp inflicted his oiled mood.

Cascading into his perception, he had seen a limb...

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