False Valour Of A Werewolf Poem by Naveed Akram

See the false valour rampage a destiny,
The feelings are vampires of the highness;
They concoct a potion for the necromancers,
Defending the ankles and freezing the footprints,
A water-like substance remains and turns you still.

For a werewolf has become you,
Fixing its stare and awfully conceiving
A fright, its very right that is bitter and pleasant
At the same time, that has centrally formed.
Midway a prime facet shall be inmost,
An inner realm explodes and incites a fire
Incident, that were-rats arrive at,
Sorcery ensues for the convenient ones.

After some time of discovery,
It has enlivened less,
Stimulated only by food, that rouses
Discomfort and fright stops on the front.
This thing has been a manly man,
But I shall never witness an atrocious smell
Of some importance.