Transformation

This poem is about werewolves. Deal with it.

I wake with a start

climb down a tree

my CLAWS seem to grow

or is it just me?

*******************

As I sprint to the forest

my bones creak and crunch

a poor innocent deer

may be my night lunch

*******************

I'm down on all FOURS now

my eyes have urned red

anything gets in my way

hey soon will be dead

*******************

My FANGS drip with what

I think is blood

I don't care that my PAWS

are splattered with mud

*******************

I'm now in the forest

I howl at the moon

I hope that my pack

does arrive soon

*******************

My MANE has grown in now

so knarled and dirty

how many in my WEREWOLF PACK?

about half of thirty

*******************

The others arrive

and after our "day"

I go home as HUMAN

and dream of new prey