The man sees
The silver lit moon rise in the night, a true curse from the gypsies
The spirit inside me is filled with pure rage
My heart explodes from its chamber
Every bone cracks and stretches with an overwhelming force

A burning fever of anguish is ripped from my soul
The tongue that once spoke a just language, now desires the unclean flesh of man
My flannel shirt is torn with blood like the feather off a crow
Vision I once had, is now a bewildering blur of darkness

A new warmth of pelage surrounds my body
Bursting deep from my bruised lungs, a thunderous howl of hunger
I see and hear them wandering through the forest
The illumination of fear is translucent when I appear in their eyes.
The werewolf acts