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|A poem about someone who finds out that being a werewolf isn't as bad as some ppl would have you believe||
Tonight, the moon is stealing softly through the sky.
Full and palely glowing, displeasing to my eye.
I know what will happen, through nature’s cruel demand
It’s three nights since it bit, through the soft flesh of my hand.
A dull pain has started, somewhere in my chest,
I know now that tonight, I will have no rest.
Teeth lengthen, becoming fangs, nails become claws
Ears and nose more sensitive, but the pain still does not pause
My backbone twists, cracks, changes, splits
My pupils narrow gradually into feral slits.
What were howls of pain, have now turned to delight
The door crumples like paper as I begin my flight.
As I gallop in the shadows, I wonder why I was afraid
For I am now free, my dues all duly paid.
My only love, the moon, is now drifting with no sound,
As my feet find firm footing even on the night time ground
No silver bullet will find me; I am too free, too wild.
As soundless as the moon, liberated as a child.
|Silver Bullets||Those Who Don't Believe In Magic...|
|The Fire And The White Noise||Perfect Xmas-Or your money back!|