Full Moon's End

Sick of the monsters that track my steps, given the chance I'd lay them to rest. Following my thoughts, they trail my every move. Gotta lose 'em before the moon sets. Grab my carving set and begin to think violently. Grabbing their attention- I get the upper hand. Stabbing through their frail skin, I find the image of blood in and on my hands, Cross-eyed and close to the cliffs edge. The moonlight sheds time on the monster's young mind, and i drop my knife. For they are me, I was them, and soon we will be together again. Looking back it was a full moon's end.