The man that morphs into a wolf,
Stalks the night of the full moon.
It's midnight pelt
Blends in with the lulling branches
of the psychotic forest.

If you catch a glimpse
Into his chaotic, bloodshot eyes,
Then maybe you can see
All that he has killed.

His broken soul is torn.
He has no choice to howl,
To hunt, to mourn.
But the moonlight that comes,
Is too much to fight,
So he must make one cry
"Murder!" in the night.

The madness and insanity that holds him,
Foces tears from his animal infected eyes.

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