Night Of The Werewolf
The winds blow
Pushing the broken swings
Fog grows
Blurring everything
Trees with arms
Wave at the lonely moon
Howling stops the calm
Death will follow soon
Critters hide
from the cannibal fangs
that wander the darker sides
with bloody minds and blades for hands
And you there
Standing by the broken swings
Humming without a care
Will have no living chance,
as he turns you to strings.
The werewolf was in you
And slowly, you'll become him
If you ponder through his lands
or surrender to your common whims.
- Mada El-Horr
2015
