Lycanthrope

I can hear the forest breathing, As I traverse the darkened wood. I can feel a heartbeat heaving, As only Mother Nature’s could. The night is intoxicating, And I feel the hunger burning. For many weeks, it’s been waiting, My lust for prey, ever yearning. The full moon rises in the sky, Shining on a field of clover. I feel my humanity die, The bloodlust has taken over. Ahead, my human prey awaits, Within the city before me. Unaware of approaching fate, Or the beastly curse that bore me. From the window of her bedroom, I see her wake, consumed with dread. With monsters peering through the gloom, She pulls the sheets over her head. But a blanket can’t protect her, From the hunger that burns in me. I’m not some make believe spectre, Or a creature of fantasy. It is time for the cursed to feed, To, once more, taste innocent flesh. I must make haste, and quell my need, While blood flows, and the meat is fresh. Beware to those of tender age, Should our paths cross -- abandon hope. For when I'm filled with full moon's rage, That's when you'll meet the lycanthrope.