The Stranger

The Stranger

As he stalks his next of prey the beast
Licks his chops and dreams of the taste,
The feel, the rations, of human blood.

He seeks with his killer intent the victim
Of his agnostic decent picking on the perfect,
The pretty, the futile, of his perfect vision.

Monstrous he prowls through the night
With a sense of passion taking his prey to the end,
The realm, and the beginning of a sated breathe.

His eyes shine brilliant green and his native body
Ripples with effect throughout the blackness,
The Darkened life, the undergrowth of humanity.

Fur threatens his skin as it has many nights before
And the werewolf becomes almost to the point,
The transportation, the finishing of a well-made product.

Muscles flex with desires beyond any other being
And this creature begins his night as the fiend,
The monster, the blessed beast of the full moon.

A slave to this nonsense and he cannot make it out
For the man has dissipated through the travels,
The time, and the killing of other souls lonely as he.

Transformation coming along slow and exceptionally sure
Werewolf, where are you and will you be coming for me,
For my mother, for my father or are you satisfied with recent kills?

No longer a man, Now nothing but unstoppable beast
Oh, wolf will you creep along so silently waiting,
Preying, and hoping to begin your quest tonight?

Now he must search for what he does not know
But when he finds his answers he will take the time,
The kill, the life of the next mortal man he falls upon.

So, let this be a warning,lock your doors and beware
Be very ware of things that go bump in the night,
The cold, the dark for he could be waiting for you.