The Werewolf

The rain slammed against the window,
On a cold, night in November.
A man sat quietly in his study,
Trying to remember.

His head buzzed with questions,
Like why were his clothes torn,
Scars appearing all over his body,
Nails sharper than thorns.

Slowly, he felt different,
As if his body was changing,
As the moon light escaped into the room,
His emotions now ranging.

He tried to contain himself,
But there was nothing he could do,
Growl, yip, bark, growl.
Now his sanity was beaten through.

For now he is a werewolf,
Terrorizing the night.
His reign will carry on forever,
Till the night turns into light.

Scratch, tear, crack, break,
Roaming through the streets.
That’s what happens when the moonlight makes,
A man to a beast from his head to his feet.

But as the sun wakes,
The chaos does end,
But people will never get to take,
Their moment to defend.