• To be cursed

    The moon floats through the sky
    I feel stomach close and open like a fist
    My bones crack painfully and twist
    My nails grow long enough to pierce the flesh
    Of any creature that runs and breaths
    My hair grows into a mass.
    My teeth sharpens in length for a savory bite,
    And my eyes glow to a golden light.
    And when the transformation is done,
    My howl of sorrow fills the surrounding lands,
    warning the creatures of my appearance
    and my inevitable come.
    This I fear will not end,
    Not for years,
    or by a cure's might hand.
    For I am not sick
    and it is not a natural occurence that this happens
    But every year I get worse.
    I wonder if by birth,
    That a witch came by
    and gave me this curse.
    When I awake,
    I will find by my hands
    that innocent sould, animal or man,
    their lives I will take
    by the blood that steins and can never be
    washed away or gone
    And never to be undone.
    A curse for a sin I've not condoned
    For a crime I have not uphold.
    Beware the werewolf
    that is what I am, and have been told.