The dark begins to call out to me,
and I begin to lose my ability to see.
My skin turns to red,
and my brain is practically dead.
Snarling, and morphing,
this is not me.
This is a monster, but my consciousness is dwarfing,
this is none other but he.
I close my eyes to the scent of my bed,
and awake to the stench of the dead.
What have I done!?
I shake my head in disbelief.
My hands are drenched in blood of many not one,
I sit down and wait for relief.
What I wait for never comes,
but the monster does.
Now I wake back at home,
but my hands are still donned with fuzz.
I am the wolf!
The one who murdered the town!
I am neither a Dr.Jekyll nor A Mr.Hyde.
I do not transform under potions,
nor do I transform under lotions,
my transformation is that of poignant bloodthirsty emotions!