Death’s Beauty The moon shimmers on the lake as my eyes peel wide my limbs wont move yet my heart races like the wind how can this be what I see as I look upon a myth and my death and drool strings from fang to lip my blood thunders to be released from my still living veins as though it could take refuge soaking into the soil as my body dies hiding from the truth even my mind refuses to accept shaggy fur that would otherwise be beautiful coats my murderer and a tail wags with anticipation gleeful at the feast before it she howls louder than my protests then lunges for my throat I go still and all I can do is think werewolves aren’t even real...
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Laura Austin
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