Opdracht 3 - Yoda

Prison of the fallen one
Terror as the blood wolf wails,
Sour as the blood he spills.
Heavy paws kick up the dust,
Red liquid feeds the lust.

Nightmare of the children lore,
Lurks the night, pounding roar.
Souls to take and lives to keep,
Channels pain, feelings deep,

Lemongrass builds up the walls,
Help from none, so he calls.
Prison founded in the trees,
Captured him, not with ease.

Punishment for all his crimes,
Ancient gods count the times.
For mocking words now engulf,
Don’t be such a sour wolf.