Monster I Am Become by Amelia Weissman
Monster, they call me
But how am I the monster?
I am only who I was ever meant to be
Monster?
What about the dogs of night baying at their master the moon?
Kind, gentle men turned to bloodthirsty canines with murderous intent
By fate of the lunar calendar
Monster?
What about the antediluvian colossal reptile lurking in the mud of the shallow
river?
Waiting to devour the innocent parched
With its cavernous mouth full of ivory daggers
Monster?
What about the microscopic organisms whose only purpose is to hijack the life
force of others?
Turning their victims’ bodies into single-minded factories which breed new killers
Until they meet a violent grisly end
But I’m the monster
The one they’ve caged
Werecat, they call me, devil-fiend
But what do they know about me?
I came here a friend, a researcher
They welcomed me with open arms
As I promised to deliver them from the stalking night terror
I spent long nights waiting and watching for a mere glimpse of the beast
And then I saw it – or rather, it saw me
Mesmerized by its violet eyes
I did not fight the embrace of its gigantic paws
It held my life in its maw but did not take it from me
It gave me the gift of freedom at the cost of pain
I could feel the wild release of speed beneath the pads of my feet
The sharp sensation of the wind through my hair
The animal music of the creatures that stir at night
Now here they come to look on me with pity
Through the bars of the prison they tricked me into
They point at the triplet ragged scars on my back
Beautiful reminders of my survival and rebirth
They whisper in fear as I draw closer to these flimsy bars
Grinning wide with my new set of sharp teeth
The pupils of my novel amethyst eyes dilate
All I want to do is hunt
Monster, they call me
I call them prey