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I Am Not So Fortunate
The mirror may have disappeared
Tommy, you still remember:
Will they go away?
Will they go away like Mommy?
Perhaps they never leave, I think
I am not so fortunate.
Fairy tales speak of werewolves
That hideous beast with an
Involuntary, momentary transformation.
The image may have disappeared
Your skin, it still remembers:
Welts must slowly fade away
But they will not disappear like Mommy
Mommy will always come back, so I think
I am not so fortunate.
I have seen a wretched werewolf
That hideous beast which leaves one
With a terrible, painful memory.
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