A Lycanthrope's Journal
My therapist recommended journaling.
Why not - I've tried everything.
I stopped in the pub, just to have a wee drink.
I smiled at Molly, the bartender, and gave her a wink.
It was late on a drear afternoon
as I read in the paper, "Tonight's a full moon".
I politely asked Molly, "Gimme another",
as in strolled Jekyll, my mercurial soul brother.
That brew made me feel I was turning inside out,
as the hair on my arms began to sprout.
The only thing I could say then was "Sheesh -
woe unto me, sitting here with no leash".
My friend, Dr. Jekyll, said with a wry grin,
"I know the kind of trouble you're in".
It wouldn't be long before I began to trip,
looking for fresh meat or a face I could rip.
I stopped in the pub, just to have a wee drink,
nary expecting to end up in the clink.
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