By day I wait,
for the curse of night,
to become a beast of
torturous fright.

Each time,
I try desperately to fight the change,
But my strengthened form
continuously breaks these chains.

They fall uselessly to the floor,
and I watch behind my eyes with horror
as I crawl on all fours.

Driven by an instinct
that belongs to the beast,
I growl, and slash, and slaughter,
until the innocent lives around me
lay dead, and mangled.

By day, I suffer
with the curse of dread
at what I am
and what I have done.

A power I cannot control
controls me, it seems
but we are not one.

I stand as a stark contrast
to the thing that kills by night
and I continue to do all I can
to cast
it out.