I can't remember much of that night.
Try and try as I might,
Only bits a pieces in sight.
An animal lay before me, dead.
It was covered in blood from, tail to head.
I see my hands in front of me, tainted red.
I remember wishing to stop,
But looking at the horrible slop,
I got a feeling nothing could top.
Overwhelming pride abuzz,
With no explanation why this was.
And then, I figured out the cause.
It came to me blunt
as I said with a grunt,
"It's the thrill of the hunt."
I don't remember much of that night.
That dreary, full-moon night.
But there is one thing I remember without a fight,
I am a werewolf. Part man, part beast.
And that animal that was deceased,
I had killed to have a feast.
What it was, I do not know.
It's all so fuzzy, in the moonlight glow,
And just as surreal as a horror show.
Piece by piece, bit by bit,
It became impossible to quit.
I will not stop 'till I remember more about it.
Try and try, I know I can,
And then... remembering began.
It was not an animal, but a man.
Now it's something I cannot mend,
But I regret remembering in the end,
Because I found out I killed a friend.