Beneath the silvery glow of the moon, In the heart of night, they'll change quite soon, from human form to a fearsome beast, The curse of the werewolf, a hunger unleashed.
Feral eyes, like burning coals, their savage nature, a tale foretold, with fur and fangs, they prowl and howl, In the midnight forest, a chilling growl.
The transformation, a painful strife, as bones reshape in the dead of night, A creature born from ancient lore, In every human, a wolf's at the core.
Once human souls, now wild and free, bound to the moon's fickle decree, they roam the woods with primal might, In search of prey beneath the starry light.
But in their hearts, a human thread, A consciousness that's often led, to mourn the deeds their wolfen side, commits when the moon is high and wide.
For werewolves are cursed, both day and night, struggling to keep their humanity in sight, A battle within, a constant war, As the beast and human coexist at the core.
So, beware the full moon's eerie call, for in its glow, the curse befalls, A tale of lycanthropy, ancient and old, The story of werewolves, both fierce and bold.
