The Werewolf

Something takes hold when moon replaces sun

Its rise above the night heralds the beast I will become

A slave to her beauty, servant to her will

Dehumanizing more and more with every man I kill

Pain can not be measured as the wolf takes its form

By razor sharp claw, the garments are torn

Bone twists, muscle expands, and senses ignite

The transformation ends when I bathe in her light

Between man and beast I have now crossed a border

On all fours I cry out , begging for her order

Carried by the winds, sweet smell of flesh blows

Tantalizing it slithers, just under the nose

I follow the scent through dark-wooded forest

Deep in the distance the howls are chorused

When at long last I come upon a campsite of men

I lick my lips in hunger, and make my move then

After the screaming, the blood and the fear

There is nothing else left, no sign of life here

It’s all over now and I leave this place

But standing before me, in front of my face

Is a beaten, scarred man, taking aim with his gun

He wreaks of sheer terror but still does not run

An instinctive leap precedes a blast of red fire

The silver mass cold, yet hot as a pyre

A bite to his neck is all I can muster

The last thing I see is my maiden’s white luster

This monster inside, to new host is shifted

Released from my torment, the curse is now lifted