The Midnight Werewoman

Once upon a nightmare,
Under the oak tree,
Gazing the October sky,
Painted darker than black,
I flumped onto the blood-red ground beneath me,
Oozing melancholy of my gifted wounds,
Asalia tears betraying my iris-coloured iris,
And falling down on my lonely scintilla.
The cold breeze ruffling through my grey furs,
The rust lining my spine,
The blackened sharp nails with bits of flesh,
My intangible ugly halo shining bright.
The darkness of this light hurts me,
What am I?
The screaming pain in my bones,
Every full moon,
Splitting my soul, one by two,
And every time,
The tinted truth in the glow of this darkness,
Petrifies me, haunts me,
The slices of life, smeared with death around me,
The instant burning rage,
When I switch into this animal,
Failing to realise,
The shrieking mistakes,
The apologies lodged in my throat,
The wailing human soul of mine,
Through crevices in my heart,
Can I still be forgiven?
This isn’t my choice,
It’s the nature’s imprisonment to me,
The waning hues each time.
The lone wolf in me is still breathing,
Weary and frazzled,
Curled up in her furs,
My human side struggling to take over now,
Waiting for the Night’s final veil,
Perhaps, it’s over for tonight,
As I see the sun rising,
I notice my white skin coming back,
I’m human now,
Till the next full moon,
Once upon another nightmare,
A werewolf and her hopeless despair.
            
-Manu

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