WEREWOLFERY

This curse is never to be lifted,
my shape soon to be shifted.
Some people think I like it his way,
my human shape will soon not stay.
These people don't call me a being, but a beast;
they think I'll turn them into a tasty feast.
It's not fair, it's not my fault;
I just want this curse to come to a halt.
I can hear the wolf's every thought,
the thoughts that I have so long fought.
He wants to run, he wants to pace;
the full moon I soon will face.
His instincts, oh, their filling my mind;
these instincts are not so kind.
The instinct to be a pack is burning,
because of this instinct I'll soon be hurting.
The stars will soon come into sight,
the wolf will howl at the moon's eerie light.
Now as the moon shines bright,
my shape shifts to his in the light.
My organs twist, my bones reshape;
it is too late, I cannot escape.
Wolf blood pumps in my vain,
he shakes his grizzled mane.
The wolf now wants out,
he wants to run about.
He paces around this dirty old shack,
he wants out to join his pack.
He hears them singing their playful song,
hoping that he will come along.
He rams the sides, he wants out;
he won't stop no matter how much I shout.
His pack stops howling, they know it's hopeless;
the wolf gives up, he knows its useless.
Now I'm in control, the sunrise I seek;
my bones broken and bruised, my body weak.