PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The clock strikes twelve,

I feel my skin crawl,

The hairs stand on end,

I hear the faint sound of a howl around the bend,

Is it me..

Is it time?

Gee, my teeth are feeling ghoulish,

I run to lock the doors,

If visitors should come,

I'd feel foolish,

And yet,

After a brief shivering,

And a slow count to ten,

The only thing on my mind is 

To go out again,

To sit on a hillside,

And howl at the moon,

To watch as human morsels pass,

And wrassle them down into the grass,

My fangs to puncture supple skin,

My thirst to be quenched once again.

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