Among my grove, the grotto I stride.

A sanctuary, a haven, concealed and excluded from my other side.
Deemed a monstrosity, behemoth upon other’s perception.
None may claim they share my perspection.
Shunned, scorned, hunted and pursued.
When the moon was full, destruction ensued.
Ah, indeed I distinctly recall.
The malicious deeds, that antagonize my apall.
I am a hybrid of lycan and man.
I am a werewolf, flee while you can.
* * *
Now, I lay, on the snow glazed earth.
As the moon’s influence again, induced an alternate birth.
Of a side of myself I’ve learned to recognize.
As my prey was ensnared, petrified, immobilized.
As all requiem, surrounding surceased.
As the people around me lingered, astonished by the beast.
The tranquil ambience around me, disrupted, disturbed.
As every denizen gathered perturbed.
Until my caustic gusto, engulfed my authority, replaced with the instinct to feast.
Shifted my flesh into the fur of a beast.
I metamorphosed, and rose to my stance.
And in an instance I howled, and began my prance, like a dance.
As I dashed boundward entrenched upon riling.
The inhabitants about chaotically stifling.
I attempt to resist this vile, vulgar distent.
With motivation received by only of those who repent.
Suddenly, a bellow for aid was implore.
Just as the caller was merely remains and gore.
These paralyzed, defenseless, conflicted faces aghasting.
Internalized, my only option was to grimace, and endure this foul dispatching.
Sanguine, scarlet, crimson blood splattered.
All the testificates strickenly scattered.
The children, the women, frail elderly too.
From which my relentless tendrils malevolently slew.
This isn’t my verdict accord it isn’t intent.
But an action, a frenzy, far beyond my extent.
For this barbaric, contraction has naught remedy, antidote or cure.
Those with the blood of the wolf will always endure.
With ever sustaining strength.
And never a faltering length.
Stamina, dexterity, adrenaline enhance.
The hungering glare that will surely entrance.
A definitive dominant to any foe.
Be wary those, take caution and woe!
As for those who strive, and seek vengeance hail!
For you will seal an inevitable fail.
This faze urges me, impulsing me to surge.
To raze every building, and advance in my purge.
Remorse is denied, mercy is deprived.
All is futile to this immoral, lust drive.
So I heed you to turn and make haste to avoid
For every action I commit is devoid.
Those who shall trepidate, qualm and fear.
Shall eternally wince, cower in awe of my ravenous leer.
And for those who seek my head,
Will surely end up dead.
As the lunar forebodance is always maintaining.
And my daunting progression is ever sustaining.
Survivors and witness have all claimed me to be vicious,
And that every execution was always malicious.
* * *
Remorseful, regretful for those I have slew
My condolences, apologies, and tidings are true.
For they are utmostly bestowed upon you.
This is a burden of which I’m depicted.
As well as a curse from which I’m afflicted.
My conscious is most definitely weighed
And my contact to myself is plighted ravaged and frayed.
Yes for this is the shameful title I wear.
This is the weighted conscience for I will always bare.
The hunter I am, hear my howl,
A warning that rises deep within my bowels.
I am a hybrid of lycan and man.
I am a werewolf, flee while you can.