On a hill far away, a wolf sings to the song of the moon.

Singing with a hole in her heart from the loss of her young. 

Far off, a man hunts for the wolf that killed his children. 

Seeking revenge with a hole in his heart. 

Cocking his gun he ventures forward full of intent to not come home till the deed is done. 

Finishing her song she ventures to her lonely cave with intent of a restful slumber. 

In a cave far away, a wolf whimpers in her sleep as she watches her pups die by man.

In a forest far away, a man lets a tear slip as he remembers the blood of his children on his hands as he cradled their dying forms to his chest. 

With a snap of a branch the wolf is spooked from her nightmarish slumber. 

With a cock of a gun, a shot is fired. 

The wolf sung with a hole in her heart, now she had one to match.

The man sung his song of misery, screaming in anguish as revenge did nothing to heal the hole in his heart. 

The irony remains. The wolf had a hole to match while the man suffered for the rest of his life with a hole hidden from sight.