A lonely house, the dead of night, several shots of rum.
A mind in anguish, dark despair and then the madness comes.
The seated figure, flickering shadows, the TV blazes on,
a transformation in moonlit night and then the madness comes.
The snarl of rage, the hasty exit, shattred glass on the floor.
The need to hide, the limping stride, a grim reflection by a store.
Realization, fits of rage, the fury burns inside.
A need to strike, an urge to kill, the lusting for a life.
Echoes, footsteps, panting breaths, the increase of the stride,
reaching claws, shock, fear, struggle deadened by the night.
A fallen victim, a fading heart, death saturates the air.
The hunger filled, diminished thrill, a retreat to the lair.
The chilling breeze, the blood soaked trail, a sudden remorse felt.
Bitter tears and wrenching moans for the hand fate has dealt.
The familiar seat, the forgiving screen, half a bottle of rum.
No choice save that to sit and wait until the madness comes.
