Werewolf | Teen Ink

Werewolf

January 14, 2013
By Phantom13 BRONZE, McKenna, Washington
Phantom13 BRONZE, McKenna, Washington
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Growing old is mandatory but growing up is optional


His breath blows out like engine’s steam
His brown mass lurches through field and stream
The ground flies by in unmarked miles

His existence an enigma, a mystery of its own
His eyes too human for the fur he’d grown
In them, a memory of a certain woman’s wiles

His sense’s sharpened, he follows her still
His lungs suck air as he crests the hill
Hungry, savage he wolf’s mind riles

His blood lust simmers beneath the skin
His goal draws nearer, his patience thin
Beneath the tower, his nails hit tiles

His growl unbidden, rumbles up his throat
His eyes flashing towards the guards at the moat
He slides around the burning piles

His shadow shivers, twists in the light
His adversaries flinch but stay to fight
In whispers they name him a creature most vile

His ivory teeth shine orange in the bright glow
His feet left the ground before they screamed “no”
Their shrieks filled the air, echoing across the isle

His hunger sated, the wolf finished its fun
His human brain whispered “What have I done?”
He bared his lip sin a mockery of a smile

His vision narrows as the clouds cover the moon
His fur disappearing with the silver balloon
The night turned from freeing to cold and hostile

His knees hit the dirt with a strangled cry
His hands stained red, his tears ran dry
The sound of boots approaching filled his throat with bile

His legs shook as he stood, his head hung low
His mind full of confusion, he had nowhere to go
With the scene around him there’d be no trial

His hands hung limp as they circled him tight
His eyes beseeching but said they were right
He knew his punishment wouldn’t be exile

His skin started to prickle, the clouds had grown thin
His mind fought a battle it could not win
They raised their swords in true warrior style

His teeth started to lengthen to a grisly grin
His hands to paws that snapped steel like tin
What was once a man’s face, looked anything but docile

His muscles pulled tight, ready to spring
His ears lay back as the church bells began to ring
Without surprise they found their struggles futile


The author's comments:
A poem I wrote for creative writing

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