The pale sickly boy bursts through the thick foliage of the woods
His heart racing, face-blazing, eyes bulging out of their sockets
And then it begins…
The moon, the boy thinks slowing, It … It exudes
Magnificence in the palest of lights, every crater like ancient golden pockets
With a cry of anguish, he is no longer man

Body splitting, tearing at the line between two realities
Soft pink flesh turning into coarse fur
Teeth turning into razor-sharp fangs
The creature lies there panting; there is no need for formalities
The boy now knows the creature well, but his colliding memories become a blur
The wolf a feral rag doll as its beastly head hangs

Hunger drips down its murderous maw and the wolf feels nothing
Humanity has been ripped from his every vein
Bloodlust is all that fills the hole
The beast runs up a knoll covered in soft spring grass, ferocity still plenty
The red ferrous liquid invites the creature down making it grueling to keep sane
Instinct says it must pilfer souls, commit a theft, and break what was once whole

Treading menacingly through the village, a wild demon
Innocent people seal themselves into useless wooden homes, ready to repent
Their fear all-encompassing, like a lamb before the slaughter
The wolf’s ears ***** with the soft thud of its paws, feeling the earth underneath weaken
A yearning, the creature drools at the thick scent
A thing of nightmares left alone with a poor man’s daughter

The inner war within the beast gains a new thunderous beat
The boom ripping at the soul
The boy had always felt that his human life was his reality
But nothing had ever felt more real than his nights as a beast
No longer able to tell the difference, he sinks into that endless black hole
Pondering darkly upon his morality  

Disgusted by his own attempt at brutality
The boy turns away from his panic-stricken prey, frozen in place, praying to blackout
He has to make a decision, to do what must be done
The next full moon, during his transformation, he experiences a sense of finality
They feel a change, a shift in power, no longer any doubt
The boy and the creature lay down their spears, let go of any fears as the forest goes silent with the sound of the shotgun

A son of Adam born anew,
Arrives into a joyous hopeful stage,
Everything set in colors of blue,
Two becomes three on a brand new page,

A son of Adam as he grows,
Has certain traditions to uphold,
None of which he yet knows,
But soon everything will unfold,

A son of Adam as he gets older,
Must bring his molders glory and gold,
To be the brave unrelenting soldier,
To be a savior and above all bold,

Now when a daughter of Eve is born,
The molders have such different hopes,
The loss of a possible son they mourn,
Then soon they begin pulling her ropes,

A daughter of Eve for generations past,
Is a puppet to her family's whims and woes,
Not a rival to the son, she is an outcast,
Never allowed to be bold or oppose,

A daughter of Eve must become a mill,
And produce until she has procured a son,
That is her destiny to fulfill,
Otherwise, society will quietly shun,

A daughter of Eve can perhaps teach,
A son of Adam she has produced,
How not to become traditions leech,
And break the circle of abuse.

The echo fills my head
Never wanting to leave my bed
Falling through a dark abyss
Lined with brimstone and a deafening hiss

Everything touched turns to coal
Always starting a brand new goal
Never seeing it to the end
Blood against blood, a lonely soldier I try to mend

The strips of my soul left bare for all to see
To laugh at me, like "How dare she?"
Still so young but I hurt too many
Too many bridges I burned already

Yet, a daisy grows among the weeds
And I stare, wondering what'll fulfill my needs
A doctor? A lover? Another survivor?
The daisy shines so I wear my suit and become a diver

Deep in the pit, I see myself
Dust off everything high on the shelf
Years of neglect and self-loathing and lies
The memories come flooding amongst my cries

No! This is too much for one person to take
Why can't I do what others can so easily fake
Because this is who I am, so I stand up tall
And look at my reflection without any fear at all

Imagine the tawny owl soaring high
Through the midnight mist
Up into the crisp night sky
Simply content to exist

The owl lands on a perch
The limb of an ancient oak tree
And surveys the land in search
For one human who is free

Sadly all of humanity is stuck
Inside their manmade domes
Gazing at glowing screens, moonstruck
Unaware of what's outside their homes

Hunger, war, pain and misery
A time of progression they say
Constantly moving around busily
Never slowing down to observe the dismay

The wise owl witnesses all
At the stroke of midnight
How this sad race is doomed to fall
Until there is nothing left in sight

You think you've experienced every feeling...

Every way to feel butterflies
Every way to soar high
Every way to touch the sky
Every way to miserably cry
Every way to want to internally die
Every way to mentally say goodbye

Until you meet someone who teaches you new ways...

New ways to spread your wings and fly
New ways to curl-up petrified as they stand by
As they stand-by and watch your demise