This is a poem about Remus Lupin when he was a kid. It's sad, I think.
A simple child.
He used to enjoy playing with the other boys,
climbing up to tree houses, and
pretending to be ferocious beasts
to scare the little girls.
Make-believe, they had called it.
It was all just a game.
But it wasn't.
Maybe then,
but not anymore.
Now, the boy didn't have to pretend.
Now, he wasn't allowed to play with the other boys.
Now, to scare little girls could prove fatal.
Now, everything was different.
Now, he was different.
The loathed moon beams fell upon his bared skin,
normal, though pale.
His face elongated.
His spine stretched and hunched.
His bones shifted
bent
split
and broke.
Tears fell from great golden eyes,
A horrific moan of pain escaped his throat;
Unnatural for a child.
Unnatural for anyone.
His mind blanked,
filled with nothing but pain.
Pain,
and desire!
The desire to hunt,
to bite,
to scratch,
to rip,
to tear,
to kill.
To kill.
His friends were nothing.
His family… was nothing.
Pain was nothing.
and everything.
It was his thoughts.
It was his movements.
It was his mutilated body.
Down to his inhuman soul.
The next moan was a growl.
The desire to harm burned through his limbs.
He needed to scratch.
He needed to bite.
something,
anything!
He sniffed,
Picked up the human scent.
The golden eyes locked on their chosen prey.
His ears perked,
Caught a soft sob.
He sniffed,
The air was doused with fear and sorrow.
Sorrow?
His corrupted mind dismissed it.
The fear was there.
The excitement was there.
The flesh was there.
He glared and snarled.
His eyes locked,
all obstacles dismissed.
Human reason deserted him.
He stalked forward.
The prey stayed still.
He dropped his head,
hunched his back,
ready to strike.
The human was silent.
He pounced.
…It didn't move.
He flew through the air.
…It sighed.
He…
…struck the silver bars of his cage.
His flesh exploded with pain,
worse than before.
He whimpered
and cowered away from the poisonous metal.
Anger burst through the cloud of pain.
A reckless rage filled him.
He pounced again,
The pain drove him back.
He pounced again,
and again,
and again.
Each impact heightened his desires.
He needed to inflict pain.
He needed to sink his teeth and claws into soft flesh.
He needed it.
Hours later he lay
heaped on the floor.
Exhausted, as the sun rose
and the wolf relented.
Since you took the time to read it…how much would it hurt to review it?