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.
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